


All the Little Lights

by ms_nawilla



Series: Little Lights Stories [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Ableism, Aging, Alderaan, Alien Biology, Alien Mating Behavior, Alien Sex, Alien/Human Relationships, Amputee, Angst, Anxiety, Art as culture, Art as hobby, Art as social activity, Asexuality Spectrum, Attachment, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Author made stuff up, Author relied on Wookiepedia for non-canon stuff, Author's understanding of lightsaber forms is limited, Bes is the Temple Style Consultant, Blocked by a ficus, Building Lightsabers, Building trust, Burn so slow it might be better titled as slow ignition, Calligraphy, Canon/Legends Fruit Salad, Caretaking, Celibacy, Centrailia PA kind of slow burn, Characters believing stereotypes, Coming of Age, Coming out of one's shell, Condoms, Coruscant (Star Wars), Crafts, Crushes, Dancing, Depression, Dex's Diner, Diplomacy, Distracting Force Currents, Dysfunctional Role Model, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Trauma, Emotional neglect, Eviction, F/F, F/M, Family, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Giant Alderaanian Chignons, Hero Worship, Hurt/Comfort, Illegitimacy, Illness, Jedi Masters reverting to teenaged behavior, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Knight's Trials, Long-Term Relationship(s), Loss of Virginity, M/M, Makeover, Manuscript Illumination, Master/Padawan Relationship(s), Masturbation, Meditation, Midi-chlorians, Mutual Masturbation, Not Clone Wars Compliant, Not Mandalorian Compliant, Obi-Wan's rock, One-Sided Relationship, Out of character depictions of Clone Wars Characters (because Author hasn’t watched it), Out of character legends characters, Physical Disability, Platonic Affection, Platonic Relationships, Polyamory, Possible ghost visitation, Psychological Manipulation, Psychometry, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Qui-Gon Jinn is Anakin’s After School Special, Quinlan Vos's Saber Porn Stash, Rare Pairings, Reincarnation, Sabacc, Self-Acceptance, Sex Education, Sex Toys, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Manipulation, Sexually Active Seniors, Shopping, Si and Bes play “Say Yes to the Dress Pants (and Robe)”, Slo Min's Tavern, Slow Burn, Social Isolation, Sparring, Speculative Obi-Wan Backstory, Speculative Yoda Backstory, Stargazing, Suicidal Ideation (discussed), Tahl lives, Tea as Social Activity, Teasing, Telekinesis, Telekinetic Games, Therapy, Training droids, Unconventional Friendship, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, Virginity, Vygor's Long-Suffering Mobile, Way too much Yoda dialogue, Way too much lightsaber stuff, Yoda and Yaddle squabble like siblings, Yoda's Duckling, Yoda's previous padawans, Young Anakin is a source of mechanical mayhem, breaking trust, broken relationship, hairstyling, professional development, psychic dreams, self-care, sexual awakening, speculative biology, transportation issues, working through emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 405,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22141849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_nawilla/pseuds/ms_nawilla
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn did not actually die on Naboo, but he still left a plenty of hurt, rash decisions and consequences in his wake, as well as a padawan unprepared for knighthood and adult relationships. Obi-Wan comes into his own without his master, but in a very different way.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker & Yoda, Bant Eerin & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bant Eerin & Tahl, Bant Eerin/Original Character(s), Bant Eerin/Tahl, Cin Drallig & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Cin Drallig & Original Character(s), Cin Drallig & Yoda, Dexter Jettster & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dexter Jettster & Qui-Gon Jinn, Dooku & Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars), Dooku & Qui-Gon Jinn, Dooku/Jocasta Nu, Feemor/Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Original Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Quinlan Vos, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Rouge Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Tahl, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Yoda, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Original Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quinlan Vos, Original Character/Original Character, Qui-Gon Jinn & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn & Original Character(s), Qui-Gon Jinn & Yoda, Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn/Tahl (Star Wars), Qui-Gon Jinn/Xanatos, Quinlan Vos/Original Character(s), Yoda & Original Character(s)
Series: Little Lights Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736215
Comments: 1617
Kudos: 884
Collections: Jedi-Friendly, Master Apprentice Archive





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> **Nawilla decided to write that weird idea she had and to write every day. This is what happened. Reader beware.**
> 
> So I had this idea about, um, 15-20 years ago when Master-Apprentice was still a Yahoo Group (anyone remember those?), but didn't have the time/energy/guts to write it. I decided for 2019 I would write more and planned to do healthy things the first half of the month and write the second half of the month. Guess which one of the two didn't happen? I started this around January 15th, 2019 and wrote almost every day for a year. I wrote for all 40 days of Lent (as a personal goal, I'm not actually religious). I wrote all winter, and spring and summer and fall and into winter again. I wrote on my bus commute, at lunch, on work breaks, at home while fending off cats. But I tried to write every day. I did NaNoWriMo Camp (and met my goals). I did NaNoWriMo (and failed my goal because November is a stupid month to pick and my cat was diagnosed with diabetes, so it was a bad month and I missed some days). I failed to meet the 20th Anniversary of TPM deadline. I thought I'd be done by April. I swore I'd be done by August. I thought I'd be done by a year. And I kept writing. And it kept getting longer. And it kept developing original characters and subplots. And it just kept growing and trying to sprout sequels. But I kept my nose to the grindstone. I was worried when it ended up longer than _Twilight_. Now it is longer than the shortest _Game of Thrones_ book. That's terrifying. It's almost done, but it's been a year, so I've decided to start posting it for it's birthday and intend to post one chapter per week (depending on work and cat drama). Mainly because I was optimistic, thought I'd be done and I don't want to put the tags in AGAIN.
> 
> This has not been betaed (despite multiple attempts to find a beta for this beast, there have been no volunteers) so feel free to notify me of typos/formatting errors. I know there are parts that get bogged down, where original characters take over, and that plain suck. Hopefully there are good parts too. Hopefully it will be worth the long, long read. 
> 
> Warnings will appear in specific chapters, but the big ones are:
> 
> 1\. Suicidal ideation: no one actually has suicidal ideation in this fic, people are just concerned and discuss it, or there were rumors.
> 
> 2\. There is an attempted rape that is remembered and discussed. 
> 
> 3\. There is human/alien sexual relations. There is old people sex. There is questioning of sexuality and exploration of self. Asexuality/sexuality is treated as a spectrum, not an absolute.
> 
> 4\. There is a rarepair in this fic. It is not listed as that would be a spoiler at this point.
> 
> 5\. If it evolves into absolute gibberish, one of the cats stepped on the keyboard when I wasn't looking. One of them managed to type "derfffffffff" in the middle of a chapter. (Let me know.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Healer Vygor needs to consult the Council about a patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and song lyrics from Passenger's _All The Little Lights_
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkxVxox--Io
> 
> For the longest time I didn't have a title for this fic. I had listened to this song many months before I decided to bite the bullet and write it, and played around with imagery/symbolism of stars and lights. I had a significant chunk of the fic done when I came across the song again and realized it fit the theme of the story perfectly, both in imagery and sentiment. I will post youtube links to each song referenced in the story in case you want to listen along.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.

_We're born with millions_

_Of little lights shining in the dark,_

_And they show us the way._

_One lights up_

_Every time we feel love in our hearts_

_One dies when it moves away_

\--Michael Rosenberg, “All the Little Lights,”

“Master Yoda,” Healer Vygor was outwardly calm as he approached the venerable Jedi, but the elder knew him well enough to sense the matter was urgent. “I need to speak with you privately.”

Yoda nodded, knowing that while Vygor served many Jedi, there were currently very few that would have necessitated the healer speak with him in person. “Yes, Healer. To my chambers we will go.” The small master held up his arms and Vygor took the cue, picked him up and began walking rapidly in that direction. “Join us, should Master Windu?”

“I’m not sure, Master,” Vygor answered honestly, if a bit winded. A warrior he was not. “This information is sensitive and confidential. Normally I wouldn’t bring this to your attention, but given the timing and the circumstances,” he hesitated to say more. There was no doubt now who this was about.

As they arrived and entered, Yoda reached out with the Force, sensing Vygor’s disquiet and genuine concern, not just for his patient, but for Yoda as well. Whatever this news was, it would not be good. The master sighed as the healer gently placed him on his feet. “Need help with this we do. Call Windu I will. Make tea you should, find your center it will help.”

Vygor nodded, trusting in the older master’s skill and wisdom for all that he had done nothing as yet to communicate the problem. He very much doubted tea was going to make this bitter pill go down any easier, but he’d take the calming ritual for what it was.

By the time Master Mace Windu arrived in Yoda’s quarters, grumbling as he usually did when he had to stoop to enter the room’s slightly lowered ceilings, the tea had steeped and Vygor was pouring all three of them steaming cups. They patiently held the traditional moment of silence, to honor the Force, the Jedi who had come before, and to center themselves such that they could receive guidance, then sipped their tea. Vygor put down his teacup, still breathing deeply.

“A problem there is?” Yoda prompted gently. Windu looked concerned, equally aware who this impromptu meeting must surely be about.

“Yes, Masters.” Vygor sighed. “I had a . . . difficult appointment with young Kenobi today.”

Windu frowned. “Is he being uncooperative with his pre-trial assessments?” Given the circumstances, he could hardly be blamed for having emotional difficulties.

“No, Master,” Vygor paused and Windu raised an eyebrow. “My apologies, Mace. I get very professional when such serious situations come up.” Yoda patted his knee in encouragement. “Padawan Kenobi has been very cooperative in his sessions. He was very anxious at first, as is to be expected when one’s master throws one into trial preliminaries with absolutely no preparations, but once it was made clear that it was anticipated he would have trouble dealing with his master’s near death and the purposes of these meetings were to help him find his center prior to his trials, he was very honest and forthcoming.”

“So, he was _too_ honest and forthcoming?” Windu ventured to guess. If anyone in the order had reason to be tempted by the Dark Side right now, Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a prime candidate.

“No.”

“Told you something unexpected he has?” Yoda reached out to the Force as Vygor nodded. “Postpone his trials this will?”

The healer ran and hand through his close-cropped hair, mussing it. “I fear this may cancel his trials, Masters. And after everything that’s happened to him . . .” he trailed off, sorrow on his face. “He has gone through so much already.”

“What did Obi-Wan tell you?” Windu prodded, mystified as to what a padawan could confess to that would halt their trials permanently, much less Kenobi. The young man had killed the Sith that had bested his master. It was expected that his emotions would be in great turmoil, and he would not be censored for needing extra preparations prior to his final examinations. Many Jedi, masters, knights and padawans alike, were not taking the reemergence of the Sith well, and Obi-Wan had fought one in person.

“Padawan Kenobi has informed me that Master Jinn has been negligent in a certain area of his training.” For all that he was a psychological healer and assessor, it was clear Vygor was uncomfortable confiding this information. “Specifically, his Sexuality Training.”

They were silent for a moment as Vygor let that sink in.

“Negligent in what way?” Windu asked at last. Yoda had shut his eyes, deep in contemplation, but the low position of his ears made clear his concern.

“As in he never taught it.”

Windu took a deep breath, trying to wrap his mind around this.

“What part, exactly, did he fail to instruct his padawan in?”

Vygor let out a bone-deep sigh, resting his head in his hands.

“All of it Mace. He left out all of it.”

Stunned, Master Windu struggled a bit to maintain his calm. “Are you saying that Master Jinn let Obi-Wan just . . . explore his sexuality on his own? Without guidance? Without teaching him how to handle adult emotion and attachment? Or did he just . . . send him to another master for these lessons and did not ensure the task was done correctly?”

Vygor did not raise his head. “I’m saying that Jinn deliberately chose to not teach these lessons to Obi-Wan himself and deliberately chose not to send him to another master to learn.”

“Bad this is.” Yoda did not open his eyes. “Knew I did that difficult Qui-Gon would find this after Xanatos’s betrayal, but foresee _this_ I did not.”

“Alright,” Mace took another sip of tea. This was not the first time a padawan approaching Knighthood had had _some_ sort of sexual issue or lapse. They could deal with this. “How much of his education is lacking? He’s an adult now, how long would it actually take to complete this part of his training, however unconventional?” Force knew there would be no lack of volunteers.

Vygor lifted his head to look Windu in the eye. “Mace,” he sighed. “Obi-Wan Kenobi is still a virgin.”

Mace practically choked on his tea. Even Yoda’s eyes flew open at that pronouncement.

“Vygor, Obi-Wan Kenobi is twenty-five years old. _Why_ do you think he’s still a virgin?”

“I told you this was serious,” Vygor replied as he poured himself more tea. “We weren’t even talking about sex, you understand. I’ve only seen Obi-Wan for a few sessions so far, and between Jinn’s throwing him into his trials at the Council Meeting, dueling with a Sith, taking care of Jinn’s recovery and being ordered to oversee his replacement, a replacement that Jinn ordered him to take as his padawan with what we all thought would be his dying words, I haven’t exactly gotten around to digging into trial readiness as yet.”

Yoda nodded. “Much on your plate, there is.”

“I know,” Vygor sighed again. “Given everything that has happened to him, Obi-Wan is having difficulty finding his center again, but he has cooperated fully. He is obviously worried he may not pass his trials, and to that end he has not tried to hold things back. But it was painfully clear from talking to him today that he was unaware that this situation could endanger his knighthood or that his master has wronged him.”

Windu had the sneaking suspicion this was only going to get worse. “How did this come up? What did Obi-Wan say had happened?”

Vygor picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to his chest, trying to release his despair for his patient. “I asked him how he felt about no longer needing to serve as Anakin’s master. He had said that he had been overwhelmed by the prospect of training a padawan but that he couldn’t refuse his master, particularly as he was still a padawan himself, and because it was Jinn’s last request. Unsurprisingly he was quite relieved when Jinn turned a corner and he would be released of this obligation.”

He looked down at the pillow in his lap, watching the light play off the beading on the edge and wondering who had brought this impractical gift to Master Yoda. “I almost didn’t ask him to elaborate, you understand. There were a thousand obvious reasons to be relieved. But I’m still trying to get a sense of him in normal circumstances, when he was just come through a series of very abnormal trials. So, I asked him what worried him most about training Skywalker.”

“What did he say?” Mace asked, though he was getting an inkling.

“He said, quite matter-of-factly, that he had no idea how he would deal with Anakin’s Sexuality Training. I asked him to articulate why, thinking it might be due to the child’s possible history of exploitation, or that perhaps Kenobi was rigidly heterosexual, and . . .” He stopped, taking a moment to look both masters in the eye. “He said that his master had never taken him through those lessons, and he would be at a loss to teach them.”

“Explain why this was neglected did he?” Yoda was clearly disturbed. “Or why bring this up to others he did not?”

“If I understand him correctly, Padawan Kenobi believes Master Jinn did not feel he was mature enough for those lessons and had indicated this was something he might address _after_ Kenobi’s trials, or shortly before them. He stated that his master told him to channel his excess energies into his training instead of wasting his time exploring his body. It seems he was told that his poor connection to the Living Force made him an inadequate student in this arena and that he was expected to strengthen this aspect of himself before it would be worth his master’s time to teach.”

“Sexuality Training is how most padawans learn to open themselves fully to the Living Force. Kenobi’s strength is the Unifying Force, but he’s hardly blind to the Living Force.”

“Not according to Master Jinn, at least so far as Obi-Wan believes.” Vygor rubbed his hands over his face. “Masters, that’s not even the worst of it. Obi-Wan is not in the least aware that this could prevent his trials.”

Windu let out a particularly venomous curse. “What was Qui-Gon going to do? Buy him a prostitute? Never send him to his trials?”

“The latter, so near as I can tell. Padawan Kenobi is a very advanced student, very articulate. His education, his diplomatic experience, his sword work, according to the other masters is exemplary. Reports from other Jedi who have worked with the pair have indicated that Obi-Wan should have been nearing his trials at least two or three years ago, but Jinn’s own assessments always found him lacking, with no clear reasons given. Then, suddenly this Force-brilliant child appears, and Jinn claims his training is over.”

“Nothing more I can teach him, he said. Not nothing more to learn has he.” Yoda’s ears sagged further.

“I don’t want to speak ill of a master I haven’t assessed, and I know Padawan Kenobi’s impressions may not be wholly reliable, but from Obi-Wan’s point of view, his master has moved on without him, and seems to feel any lack in Obi-Wan’s training is no longer his concern. And frankly, I’m hard-pressed to find an alternative explanation.”

“Qui-Gon has been pushing to get Obi-Wan’s exam dates scheduled since he was released from the Healer’s Ward. He’s also moved Skywalker into their quarters.” Mace glowered at his tea as Jinn was not present to feel his displeasure. “He has been submitting the request daily for the past week in protest.”

“Stubborn he is.”

“He’s more than stubborn, Master.” Vygor rested his chin on the pillow. “He’s moved Anakin into Obi-Wan’s room. Obi-Wan has been sleeping on the floor of Jinn’s study.”

Yoda scowled. “Subtle he is not.”

“What does Obi-Wan think of all this? Does he have any sort of plan moving forward?”

Vygor shook his head sadly. “His plan was to take his trials because that’s what he feels he is supposed to do. Obviously, he is unsettled and uncertain he will pass, his own master has made it clear he is unsatisfied with him, but apparently Kenobi is used to the sentiment and never expected he would satisfy Jinn completely. He _is_ keenly aware that Jinn holds higher standards than other masters. But in regards to his sexuality, he assumed that Master Jinn did not feel it was necessary training prior to his trials, and he wasn’t planning on broaching the topic with his master while Jinn was convalescing. He will take his trials and continue to assist Master Jinn until such time as Jinn can take over Skywalker’s training fully. After that he assumes the Council will send him out as needed on missions suited to his ability. With regards to his Sexuality Training, he still seems to be waiting on Jinn’s guidance.”

“Leave him waiting forever, Qui-Gon will,” Yoda whispered, sadly.

“Damn him,” Mace clenched his fists, as if he could throttle Jinn through the Force. 

“Grave concern this is, Vygor.” Yoda turned to Mace. “Sexuality training required of masters, but required for trials it is not.”

“Come again?” Vygor felt as confused as Mace looked.

Yoda snorted at their skepticism. “Young, so young. Sexuality training a new concept for Jedi is. Only few centuries we have had it. Prior to this, many virgins knighted were. Some celibate remained all their lives, some explored after, some the Living Force in youth embraced. Only one aspect of self is sexuality. Deal with this aspect Obi-Wan must, but interfere with trials it may not. Served the Jedi this long without it he has.”

“Master Yoda, are you suggesting we send Kenobi to his trials with his sexual challenges untested?”

The small master rolled his eyes. “Virgin he is, not sexless. Tested he has no doubt been, if not in usual way.” He turned to Vygor. “Brought this to our attention, thank you we do. Continue to evaluate Padawan Kenobi. Figure this out we will. Delay his trials this may, but cancel I doubt. Faced Sith he did and did not turn to Dark Side. Bedroom experience not a better test than that.”

“But what of his relationship with Qui-Gon Jinn? What else might his master have neglected in his training?”

“Good healer he has figuring that out already. Talk again we will soon.”

Master Windu’s comm went off, the chime indicating a call from his personal assistant. He gave the other masters an apologetic glance as he took the call and Vygor, feeling slightly more balanced, began to clean up. Yoda followed him to the small sink, reassuring him that he was doing right by his patient and that the Council would neither push, nor delay Obi-Wan’s trials unnecessarily, but he certainly did not sound ready right now.

“He did _what_?” Mace asked, incredulous. Both masters turned to watch as Windu tried to release shocked anger into the Force while still listening to his assistant at the other end of the call.

“Yes, yes. Tell her I will be down shortly to deal with this personally. No, he’s not in trouble, his master is just a bantha’s ass. Yes, that is _exactly_ the term you should use.” He closed the connection, then took a deep, cleansing breath and released it before turning back to his companions.

“That was Eller. The Quartermaster just called. Apparently a certain senior padawan has been formally evicted from their master’s quarters and with no record of disciplinary sanction, knights’ trials dates, or change in home temple or master status, they were quite unsure what to do with him. His master indicated the decision was in the hands of the Advancement Committee.”

Yoda was appalled. Vygor looked enraged.

“Eller was also been informed that this same master has also requisitioned a full new junior padawan kit from Stores and will be sending Anakin down for sizing.”

“Let this go too long we have,” Yoda sighed. “Have Stores provide Skywalker with neutral clothes, nothing more. Find young Kenobi we must.”

“According to Eller, he’s still in the Quartermaster’s waiting room and rather shell-shocked over the whole thing.”

“Go to him we must. Now.”

* * *

The situation was as bad as Yoda had feared when they arrived. Eller soon joined them, bringing datapads updated with Jinn’s latest filings, the Quartermaster looked ready to spit nails, and the padawan in question was sitting in the lounge, staring into space, his mission pack between his knees stuffed full of all his worldly possessions, left adrift in bureaucratic limbo. Fed up with the lot of them, the Quartermaster stormed off to deal with a more pressing issue, muttering about how Jedi should be mature enough to handle their own interpersonal problems without making her do it for them.

“Master Windu,” the attendant on duty was radiating distress, clearly convinced their division had done some great wrong if members of the Council had to be summoned to clear it up. “I’m very sorry, Sirs, but I can find no record for Jedi Kenobi in regards to a housing change and we don’t know how to classify him. He’s not listed on the Trials Calendar, not listed as a visiting Jedi, not listed on the Discipline Roster and there is no indication he is being assigned to a new master.” She glanced nervously at the pale, young man sitting just out of hearing range. “His master filed eviction paperwork but did not grant him permission to request quarters. That normally only happens in disciplinary matters, and we normally stick the unruly teenagers in the dorm barracks for a few weeks until the punishment is over, but he seems kind of old for that and he’s not actually on the Discipline Report. Is his transgression more _confidential_?”

Windu and Vygor each took this in in their own way, the former glowering while the latter mentally tallied how many more sessions young Kenobi was going to need to get past this latest betrayal. Windu could feel Eller standing behind him, teeth grinding in outrage.

“He’s trying to force our hand, Vygor,” Mace finally said. “Toss the young man out into the cold to expedite his trials.” He looked at the padawan in question. “He really doesn’t care if Obi-Wan passes his trials or not at this point, does he?”

“He’s Dooku’s padawan and he lives in the moment,” Eller uncharacteristically piped up, clearly as fed up with Jinn’s nonsense as Mace was. “Dooku was notorious for sending padawans to the barracks for the least transgression.”

“This is really not helping him,” Vygor spoke quietly, skirting the line of patient confidentiality.

“I need to know where to put him,” the attendant was starting to look desperate. “I’ve got a gaggle of young padawans from Correllia here for a two-week seminar in Barracks A, three padawans and a knight in rehab after that ‘spice incident’ and two more who threw a house party in Barracks B, and the usual nomadic knights and masters traipsing through Barracks C. He’s a padawan, so I can’t put him in one of the diplomatic suites, the waiting list for Padawan Quarters is at least 3 months long, and the only place left is Barracks D, which is where the Service Corp staff and other Jedi stay when they pass through.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, for all that Kenobi didn’t appear to be listening. “Look, I don’t need to know what he did, but I do need to know where to stick him. Is he going to be a bad influence on the younger students? Is it substance abuse and he needs to be strip-searched or put on curfew? Are they shipping him off to the Agri-Corps and doesn’t know it yet? He really didn’t seem to know this was coming.”

Vygor caught Windu’s eye. “None of these are good alternatives if you expect Kenobi to be readying himself for his trials.”

“Agreed.” He turned back to the attendant. “Is there any way to expedite a room assignment for Padawan Kenobi? His master turned him out in an attempt to get the Council to move up his trials.”

The attendant blanched. “Um, I’m sorry Master Windu, our Padawan Quarters are very full right now.” She scanned the screen displaying the inventory. “Even the Knights Quarters have a waiting list. Best I can do is stick him in A or D for a few weeks, then move him in with a roommate when Knight Voor gets transferred.” She looked apologetic. “I’d still need to clear it with Master Hestia, but I think she would agree, even if he’s not a Knight yet.”

“Not Barracks D,” Vygor’s gaze was stern. “He already thinks he might be shipped off to the Corps if he fails his trials.”

“Damn,” Windu growled. “I take it we shouldn’t be leaving him alone and unsupervised either.”

“Not if you want him to pass, no.”

“Stop fussing you will,” Master Yoda finally spoke, scaring the hell out of the attendant who couldn’t see him from behind the counter. “Simple solution there is, force our hand Jinn will not.” He turned and stalked purposefully into the waiting room and walked right up to the padawan in question.

“Obi-Wan?”

The young man started when the master tapped him on the knee, then managed to grow even paler, keenly aware that if a Council member had been called down for a failed room assignment, transfer or expulsion could be clear possibilities.

“They don’t know where to put me, Master Yoda.” After all he had been through in the previous two months, this last insult could well turn out to be the proverbial straw.

“Come, Padawan,” Yoda made sure to use his title to convey this had not been lost. “Room I have to spare, quiet place you will need to prepare for trials.” A gentle tug on his Kenobi’s pants leg and he had coaxed the mortified young man to his feet. Another moment and they were down the hall and gone as if the whole matter had never happened.

“Problem solved?” the attendant asked, hoping the ordeal was over.

Vygor raised an eyebrow. “ _One_ problem solved.”

* * *

It was deep into the night when Yoda felt the first hint of disturbance in the Force. Fully expecting this, he surfaced from his meditation and crept toward the closed door of the padawan room, concerned by the feelings of distress the young man inside was trying to hide.

Gently, he opened himself to the Force, quietly making his presence known. Obi-Wan’s response was to tighten his shields, his presence dimming, as if trying to be more unobtrusive.

Concerned, Yoda reached for the latch that had been set low for his convenience. “Coming in, I am.”

Obi-Wan did not speak until he had come into the dark room and had closed the door.

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, Master Yoda. I will try to be quieter.” They both knew he had made no physical sound, but it was difficult to hide one’s emotions from one as sensitive as Yoda.

“Disturbed me you have not. Expected this I did.” The small master stepped up to the thin mat that was serving as Obi-Wan’s sleeping pallet. The young man was curled on his side, his back to his elder, facing the wall. His breathing was steady but sounded slightly congested.

Yoda closed his eyes and reached out with his other senses. The Force confirmed what his nose and ears had told him. The young man was in despair, but he had not harmed himself. There was no blood, only tears. Still, he should not be left alone, for all that he had chosen to close himself up in this small room.

“Here to listen I am, if need that you do.”

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched, but his voice was steady. “I’ve been trying to release my emotions into the Force, Master Yoda, but they keep welling up.” He was quiet for a long moment. “I know I should have better control of myself at my age. I can go to the barracks, I shouldn’t be bothering you.” He began to sit up, ignoring his tear-stained face, mortification beginning to overtake despair.

Yoda laid a clawed hand on his arm, and he stilled instantly.

“Grieving you are, for many things. Never too old you are to feel that. Very hard this has been on you, deserve this you do not.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan lay back down, but did not turn around. “I shouldn’t be acting like a frightened child in the creche.”

Yoda began to run his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. It was past time for a haircut, but now was hardly the time to bring that up. He wondered what else might have been neglected during this difficult time. The young man’s breath hitched again.

“Removed from your home you have been. Treated badly you have been. Hurt you have been. Held together long enough you have. Safe you are now, let it out you should.”

He could feel the young man trembling beneath his hand, still trying to hold it in, not wanting to fall apart in front of the one member of the Council who still seemed to want him around, even in the dark.

“Forsaken you are not. Hard path you are on now. Walk alone you do not have to.” He began to rub Obi-Wan’s back, up and down his spine. The bones were a little too prominent under the tunic. Beneath his hand, he could feel the breath hitch again. “Cry it out. In the morning, better it will be.”

Yoda sighed as at last the floodgates opened and Obi-Wan began to silently cry in earnest. Settling down beside the distraught young man, he continued to rub his back and shoulder until the tears stopped and dried and his charge fell asleep.

* * *

“Well, Obi-Wan,” Vygor looked up from his notes at the serious young man sitting across from him. “You’ve been with Master Yoda for two months. Are you feeling more centered and in tune with the Force?”

Obi-Wan smiled faintly. “It is difficult to live with Master Yoda and not feel more attuned to the Force.” His face grew serious again. “As for being centered, yes and no. I do feel calmer, more focused, less adrift, but” he frowned, struggling to put his feelings into words. “I feel as if my center has . . . moved? That I’m reaching toward equilibrium, but it’s not where it used to be.” He scowled at himself, dissatisfied. “Does that make sense?”

Vygor gave him an encouraging look. “That actually makes a lot of sense, and I hear similar things from many Jedi recovering from traumatic events. The Jedi teachings tell us to look within, but they don’t always mention what we should expect to find there. The events in our lives shape us, make us different than we were before. It is normal to feel the change.”

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement but said nothing.

“Master Yoda says that you have been handling your emotions well.”

The padawan blushed, looking at the floor. “I have been doing better, but frankly the only way to go was up.”

Vygor reached out to touch his knee, waiting until Obi-Wan looked him in the eye. “No, it wasn’t. There were far worse places to go.” He could see the young man was considering this, but still didn’t look convinced.

“So,” Vygor stretched, having spent too long in his chair. “We’ve discussed emotion, what about fear? You were obviously suffering both anxiety and fear, what scares you now that you are both different and more settled?”

“I suppose my fears are somewhat typical,” the young man frowned again, always so serious. “We are taught there is no death, but there is still a bone-deep fear of it. Not usually in the heat of battle, but sometimes after, it comes in meditation. I feared it more when I was younger.”

“You’ve had quite the death-defying career as a padawan.”

Obi-Wan only shrugged, as if to say for young Jedi it was par for the course. “There is of course the Dark Side to fear as well, both within and without. There have always been Dark Force users, but the Sith are,” he paused. “It’s more tangible to me now. More . . . personal.”

“Are you still having nightmares and visions?”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “I’ve always had dreams and nightmares. Master Yoda has been going through them with me. I think he is worried there may be a vision in there mixed in with all the psychological flotsam and jetsam.”

“Has there been?” Vygor sounded genuinely intrigued.

“A few,” Obi-Wan admitted, reluctantly. “Master Yoda was always more open to them than Master Jinn. The Force sometimes provides me with insights through dreams, but I don’t know that I have all that many full-fledged visions.”

Vygor checked his notes. “Or perhaps you simply process them well enough that they meld into the normal dreamscape. That’s not unusual for Jedi who are strong in the Unifying Force.”

The young man grew still. “Master Yoda has strongly suggested I work with a seer to focus my dreams. I thought it was because my visions were so infrequent.”

“I doubt that,” Vygor tapped his stylus his datapad. “It’s generally not suggested for Jedi to pursue unless their visions become overwhelming,” Vygor gestured with one hand, indicating this was not the case here. “Or until after a padawan is knighted. That kind of exploration does not suit padawan duties. It can be initially quite exhausting and all-encompassing, but it does sound like something you could do well to pursue after your trials.”

“If I pass.” Clearly that was still a worry.

“Are you afraid of failing them, or letting people down?”

Obi-Wan was silent for several moments, but it was clear from his expression and his Force presence that he was seriously considering the question. “Not as much, or in the same was as before,” he said, at last. “Before,” he waved his hand vaguely, “ _everything_ . . . happened, one of my greatest fears was failing in my duty, failing my master. As Jedi, failure doesn’t just mean disappointment or deference of goals, it often means death. Of ourselves, of our friends, of our master, of those we are charged to protect. We must work very hard to ensure we don’t fail. And I did. For a very long time.”

“And what is different now?”

“What I had feared as much has come to pass.”

Vygor looked him in the eye.

“My master rejected me.”

“This was something you feared?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably. “I failed to meet his standards and expectations. I am a poor student of the Living Force. I was twenty-five years old before he opted to send me to my trials, long after my age-mates, and only when the Force led him to a better prospect. He made it clear he found me immature and impulsive. I didn’t measure up to my predecessor, and then I was out-matched by an untrained nine-year-old.”

Vygor took a moment to chew on this newest psychological bomb Obi-Wan blithely dropped into his lap, as if this should be obvious to everyone. “You feel you didn’t measure up to Jinn’s previous padawan, who never took his trials because he turned to the Dark Side?”

“I knew from the beginning I wasn’t as talented or as strong in the Force as Xanatos. I think that felt safer for Master Jinn. I would never rise as high, but I could never fall as far. I don’t think he could have lived through that again.”

“An interesting insight,” Vygor couldn’t keep the sadness from his voice, and it disturbed him that despite the rather depressive nature of Obi-Wan’s feelings, he actually did feel more stable and optimistic. “Did you always feel this way?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “My apprenticeship was a rocky one, that started off badly. I wasn’t chosen, I was sent to the Agri-Corps. Master Jinn did take me as a padawan learner, but he didn’t trust me. And I betrayed him before he could. He was generous enough to take me back, but he’s not a fool. I worked very hard to earn his trust and be worthy of his teachings, but I never could. My turning was something he always knew could happen, but there are other ways to fail.”

Vygor restrained himself from pulling the young man into his arms like a lost child. It would cross the healer-patient boundary, for all that he clearly needed it. “And now that your fear has happened?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “It has happened. The galaxy kept spinning, my heart kept beating, time moved on. I should have to learn to live with it. And my master nearly died, which would have been so much worse. There is a difference between personal disappointment and tragedy in life. As painful as failing my trials and being sent to the Service Corps would be, it would be the former.”

“A new perspective,” Vygor mused.

“And experience.” Obi-Wan glanced up at the mobile hanging above Vygor’s desk, deep in thought. The mobile had been a gift from Vygor’s master when he had been granted his own office, the small blown glass spheres representing his native solar system. The vibrant beads dipped and spun, responding to Obi-Wan’s unconscious manipulations. “Master Yoda has assured me that even if I don’t take or pass my trials, there is a place for me in the Order. The Service Corps is a possibility, or I might find a position based out of the Temple. I have more training than I did as a failed initiate, and my diplomatic experience would be useful if I wanted to work as a courier or to assist the older masters.”

“Is that something you want to do? Last we talked, you seemed to think your trials were what you were working toward.”

The mobile slowed, then stilled.

“I want to take my trials, and have the question settled. I don’t want to live in uncertainty anymore. But I also want to be prepared. I want to pass or fail as my best self, not because I missed something I could have done right. But I can’t stay in Master Yoda’s guest room indefinitely, worrying about what I haven’t done. I need to move forward, even if I fail.”

“Do you think you can pass?” Vygor looked at him intently and the mobile began to slowly spin again, this time in the opposite direction.

"I don’t know. Until the Council meeting, Master Jinn had always given every indication I was not ready for them, though I didn’t tend to ask him directly. Master Yoda has been more encouraging, but he always has been, even when I was an initiate on the brink of failure.”

“Master Yoda has evaluated far more Jedi in his lifetime than Master Jinn.” Vygor considered how much he should say. “His concern for your readiness has been primarily with your trauma and the falling out with your master disrupting your equilibrium, not with any lack of skill or ability on your part.”

“Two months ago I would have certainly failed. Now, I don’t know, but after living with Master Yoda, I feel passing is possible. But if I fail, I know the universe will go on, I will go on, and Master Yoda will forgive me.”

“I know I’d prefer to send you toward your trials radiating confidence, but you are mature and pragmatic, which is arguably preferred to over-confidence.” Vygor sighed as he came to the last note on his session itinerary. “Obi-Wan, there is another issue I need to discuss with you before I can in good conscience approve you for your trials.” Obi-Wan stiffened slightly, as if bracing for yet another blow, but the mobile remained still. Vygor took a deep breath. “You told me in a previous session that Master Jinn had neglected your Sexuality Training.”

Obi-Wan flushed with embarrassment, but less than he had the first time he had confessed his virginity. “Is this the passion or the ignorance portion of the session?”

The healer shook his head and forged onward. “I did have to inform your trial masters of your situation, because I was concerned it would prevent your trials.” Vygor tried to project both professionalism and apology to his patient, but the young man kept his face blank. “Masters are supposed to prepare their padawans to deal with their adult emotions, and sexuality can offer both physical and psychological health benefits, but can also lead to emotional disequilibrium and social difficulties.”

Obi-Wan blinked. Even as a virgin, this was not information he was unaware of, having been covered in initiate level health classes.

Vygor continued. “A padawan’s sexuality is considered part of their adult psychological make up, and it may be investigated as part of their Knight’s trials.”

The mobile began to drift again.

“So, because of this lapse in my training, I cannot pass my trials,” he looked away, fidgeting in distress. “And Master Yoda knows about it.” Vygor noted he made no comment about how Master Jinn must have known as well.

“No, well,” Vygor shook his head. “Not exactly.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, not finding any better options in that statement.

“I informed Masters Yoda and Windu of this lapse on Master Jinn’s part. Master Yoda feels that we needed to take care to ensure you were psychologically healthy, but that your trials could proceed.”

Obi-Wan looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Is the Council requiring me to . . . to lose my virginity as part of my trials?” He looked thoroughly flummoxed as to how he could actually accomplish this, much less on a deadline and with proper emotional growth.

Vygor tried to look encouraging. “No. Master Yoda has consulted with other Councilors, and they agree this is not a technical requirement, but have requested that I discuss it with you, and present alternatives so you are prepared should you choose to explore your sexuality independently as an adult.”

Obi-Wan lowered his head into his hands, rubbing his face. “I’m nearly twenty-six years old now. At this point are there really any other options beyond celibacy?”

“That doesn’t need to be a final say in the matter, Obi-Wan.”

The young man held his arms out, at a loss. “How would I even, how would I . . . who could even help me with this?”

Vygor fought the absurd urge to laugh, as it would not help his patient. If Padawan Kenobi simply wanted to get laid, he’d only need to hold up a sign indicating such and wait around for five minutes. Inside the Temple or out. But having sex and being secure in his sexuality were two very different things. No longer a hormonal teenager, Obi-Wan was wiser in these matters than he realized.

“There are other options, Obi-Wan. As I said, the Council will ask about your sexual feelings, but sexual experience is not actually required for Knighthood. There is a long history of chaste Knights and padawans, and they did not all remain so their entire lives. There are also master and padawan pairs that are sexually incompatible, due to species, gender, orientation, or even just psychological or personal incompatibility. If you master had psychological hang ups in regards to training you, he was supposed to arrange for a compatible partner for you. That he did not was a grave disservice to you.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “Did I get him in trouble?”

“Obi-Wan, he got himself in trouble.” The mobile stopped again, suddenly. “However, your candor may have spared Anakin the same fate.”

“Master Jinn feels Anakin’s padawan training is urgent. I don’t necessarily agree he should train as a padawan, but the Jedi can’t leave him in limbo, with no path to walk.” The mobile snapped suddenly to the side before spinning rapidly. Obi-Wan looked up at it sharply, then blushed and intentionally stilled it with a wave of his hand. “Sorry.”

“Is that something the Force is telling you?”

“Yes, Master Vygor.”

“And you’ve been discussing this with Yoda?”

He nodded. “Extensively.”

“Good.”

Obi-Wan looked at him quizzically.

“Obi-Wan, there is no other person in this Temple with a greater motivation for wanting Anakin Skywalker to disappear than you, and you feel the Force is telling you that he needs to be dealt with or trained in some capacity.” He leaned forward. “Maybe you should consider Yoda’s suggestion about developing your talents more?”

The young man nodded, his ‘I will meditate on this further’ face clear.

“Nice dodge, by the way, but I have more to tell you about your options.”

Obi-Wan looked resigned.

“As I was saying, your master should have arranged for a compatible partner for you if he was not going to do it himself. Master Yoda and I agree that if you don’t want to explore your sexuality completely on your own, we,” he gestured between himself and the padawan, “could make these arrangements, preferably after your trials, whenever you feel ready.”

“I see,” Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, mulling the idea over. “To be honest, the idea of trying to . . . engage in that sort of activity is just . . .”

“Overwhelming?”

“Unappealing,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “And overwhelming. I know the Council is concerned, but it feels so unimportant to me right now. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Vygor smiled. “It most definitely is not. You may change your mind later. You may find this is temporary, and given your circumstances, these feelings are very normal. Or you may find that disinterest in sex is normal for you. The major point the Council wants to make clear is that if you do decide to explore your sexuality as a knight, that you are aware of the resources available before you are led into emotional turmoil, and if you end up taking on a padawan learner in the future, that you know what is required, appropriate and how to handle this aspect of their training, even if you don’t do it yourself.” He leaned forward to make his point. “There are plenty of Jedi who are asexual, or sexually incompatible with their students. There is no shame in that, only in leaving them adrift to figure this out on their own.”

“So, I could still pass my trials, despite being untouched and pure?”

He almost moved to explain again that sexuality was normal and not sinful, before he caught Obi-Wan’s lips just barely twitching in amusement.

“Oh, so _there_ is the infamous Kenobi sarcasm.” Vygor rolled his eyes. “I’m approving you to complete your pre-trial requirements. You are ready to move on.” He stood up and shook his hand when Obi-Wan followed suit. “I think you will serve the Order well, regardless of where you end up, and that as hard as your padawan years have been, they have prepared you for what is to come. We do not recommend trials to be rid of inconvenient padawans. Do your best, don’t let your fears prevent you from flying, and don’t think you are unworthy because of your master’s fears.”

Obi-Wan looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t discount your counsel, Master Vygor, but he has trained me for twelve years.”

“Yes, and he needed you to save his ass from a Sith, so don’t sell yourself short.”

Obi-Wan snorted but tears suddenly came to his eyes at the same time.

“You already are a great Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Go reach for the stars.”

* * *

“The Council did not request young Skywalker’s presence at this meeting, Master Jinn.” Mace Windu’s expression was as cold as his tone.

“I have taken Anakin Skywalker as my padawan learner. His place is at my side.”

Anakin tried to look confident in his place, hopelessly caught between Qui-Gon’s yes and the Council’s no. He was neatly dressed in neutral initiate’s clothing and Master Qui-Gon had cut his hair padawan short, but even his almost master didn’t quite have the nerve to actually plait up a padawan braid without the Council’s approval.

“Know you do that Council approval you do not have, Qui-Gon Jinn. Unfair it is to put the child in the middle.” Yoda nodded and a docent stepped forward, bowing. “Additionally, settled issue of Padawan Kenobi you have not.” Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reiterate that Obi-Wan’s training was complete and the Council was holding up his trials, but Yoda’s glare silenced him. “Anakin Skywalker, teaching you Jedi ways Master Jinn has been doing?”

Anakin could mostly understand Yoda’s speech, but was pretty sure the wrinkly green master didn’t like him. “Yes, Master Yoda. He has been teaching me to sit quietly and practice my reading and teaching me about the Jedi Code and how to feel the Force.”

Adi Gallia leaned forward to address the boy. “Being a Jedi is also very physical work. Have you been preparing for this as well, Anakin?”

Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes but did not interrupt the boy.

“Obi-Wan was teaching me some exercises when Master Qui-Gon was stuck with the healers, and after he came home, but he stopped after he moved out.”

Qui-Gon glared at Yoda as if this was his doing. “Yes, apparently he is now preparing for his trials.”

“Yes, told me this Obi-Wan did,” Master Yoda turned back to Anakin, ignoring Jinn’s silent protest. “Good teacher was he?”

Anakin shrugged. “I don’t know. We didn’t do it very long. But he knew a lot of different ones and sometimes he’d let me watch his lightsaber practice, even though he wouldn’t let me build one.”

“More lessons you need first.” He gestured toward the docent who had been waiting patiently. “Appointment we have made you with Curriculum Master. Tests you need to determine what lessons you need. Hutts not known for good schools are. Other teachers you will need.” The docent held out a hand to take the boy to his appointment. Anakin looked to Qui-Gon uncertainly.

“I should go with Anakin,” Jinn began to move but Mace signaled to another Jedi waiting in the wings, who brought a chair into the center of the circle.

“Sit, Qui-Gon. We have plenty to discuss while Anakin is taking his placement tests.”

Qui-Gon did not have a good feeling from the Council, but he sensed no danger to Anakin. “Padawan, go with the docent. I will send Obi-Wan to get you if my meeting runs late.” Qui-Gon tried to smile reassuringly as Anakin reluctantly left.

“Done with stunts are you?” Yoda did not look pleased.

“I have been clear and transparent. I have taken Anakin as my padawan learner. I have repeatedly told you he must be trained. If you will not accept him for training, I have no choice but to train him myself.”

“And as we reminded you the first time, Qui-Gon, you still have a padawan that you have responsibilities toward.” Windu did not seem any more impressed by Jinn’s argument than he had been the first time.

“On the contrary,” Qui-Gon wasn’t quite nervy enough to appear smug. “I have completed my previous padawan’s training. It is the Council who has not allowed him to advance, but _I_ have fulfilled my duties to him.”

“So sure are you?”

Long experience with Master Yoda meant that somewhere deep in Qui-Gon’s mind, a danger klaxon was blaring. “Yes, Master.”

“Well, then,” Mace sat up straighter. “Given that Anakin Skywalker is an extraordinarily unusual prospect, let us discuss your suitability and fitness as his potential master.”

The klaxon blared louder.

“Master Qui-Gon,” Eeth Koth kept his face carefully neutral. “Given your ill health, advanced age and track record with your previous padawans, how do you propose to be an adequate master for a student as challenging as Skywalker is likely to be?”

_Wow. They went right for the jugular, didn’t they?_

Qui-Gon turned to face the Zabrack, ignoring Master Yoda for the moment. “My health is poor now, but it is improving. Anakin has much to learn at the Temple before he will be ready to go out into the field. By the time he is ready, I will be too.”

“And if you are too old and infirm by the time Skywalker is ready?”

The question, coming from a councilor younger than himself, left a bitter taste in Qui-Gon’s mouth. “I have faith that my recovery will enable my return to the field, despite my age. I do not feel the Force is prompting me to retire.”

Significant looks passed between various Council members.

“What of your previous padawan learners, Master Jinn?” Adi Gallia was stone-faced. “Should we believe they have prepared you for the challenges ahead?”

“I feel all of my padawans provided unique challenges.”

“Successfully knighted your first padawan was.”

_Trust Yoda to bring that up._

“Strained your relationship was after Xanato’s betrayal.”

“Feemor works in the Outer Rim. He has not been back to Coruscant in years.”

“Xanatos turned to the Dark Side.” Ki-Adi Mundi had never been one to mince words. “Are you prepared to guide an even stronger student to the Light? And one who is to be even older when he begins his training?”

Even after two decades, Qui-Gon still disliked speaking about his second padawan. “My experience as Xanatos’ master serves to remind me that failure is always a possibility, and to deal with dangerous behaviors before they become a problem.”

“Are you concerned that Obi-Wan could fail to attain knighthood?” Depa Bilaba’a voice was gentle, for all that her question was dagger sharp. “You were relying on him to supplement Anakin’s training while also expecting him to prepare for his trials.”

Qui-Gon moved to answer, but the warning klaxons had gone to full red alert. He had expected at least one of them to bring up Xanatos as soon as the phrase ‘track record with former padawans’ was used, if for no other reason than to unsettle him and test his resolve. He had mentally prepared to rehash his mistakes with his second apprentice, who even he admitted had some similarities to Anakin, for all that one had been practically a prince and the other a slave. He was not sure where they were going if they were jumping straight to Obi-Wan instead.

“I have trained Obi-Wan Kenobi for twelve years and have fulfilled my duties to him. He has learned all he is capable of learning from me. The Force has placed this new responsibility in my hands. Obi-Wan is old enough to be the master of his own fate now.”

“So, you feel if Obi-Wan fails his trials, it is no longer your responsibility.” Mace did not voice this as a question.

“He left my guidance three months ago. If he has forgotten his lessons so quickly, I do not feel I can be held responsible, particularly considering how seriously I was injured.”

“What do you envision for Obi-Wan’s future, for his trials and beyond?” Depa again. It was always difficult when she tag-teamed with her former master.

“Obi-Wan’s future is his own.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wondered if he had stepped into some sort of trap. Most masters would have said they assumed their padawan learners would graduate to Jedi Knights, but he had honestly not thought Obi-Wan was ready, and the boy had done nothing to distinguish himself on their less than routine mission prior to that. It might reflect badly on him later, but Anakin had to be the priority now.

_Why can’t they see that?_

“You seemed to trust Obi-Wan far enough to have him begin Skywalker’s Jedi education,” Windu raised an eyebrow. “In fact, while we all thought you were dying, you insisted that Obi-Wan train him. You seemed confident enough in his abilities then. Why not now?”

“I was _dying_. I did the best I could with the resources at hand. It is essential that Anakin be trained. But I didn’t die. And now Anakin’s future is my responsibility.”

“So strange it is, hearing Master Qui-Gon worry about the future.” Yoda was glaring again. “But only one padawan you worry about. Lost one padawan to the Dark Side you have. Confident you are that Obi-Wan will stay in the Light? Sith have returned. Stakes have changed.”

_They’re worried that Obi-Wan would turn to the Dark Side? That he would be recruited by the Sith?_

“Obi-Wan managed to remain in the Light while fighting a Sith. He was not able to keep up during the battle, but he survived despite losing his lightsaber. I think he is well-prepared to resist the Dark Side and unlikely to be seduced by the Sith.”

There was a long moment of silence as Windu and Yoda shared a look.

“ _That_ is what you remember from the fight on Naboo?” Mace asked, incredulous.

“He fell behind.”

“You rushed ahead.”

“He fell off the catwalk.”

“You were stabbed in the chest.”

“He was slow to catch up.”

“He followed you into a kill box and bested the Sith that struck you down.”

“With _my_ lightsaber.”

“So you aren’t satisfied with his training.”

 _Touche._ Apparently he was still following his adversaries into neatly laid traps.

“I’m not satisfied with his performance.”

“Why do you think Obi-Wan is unlikely to be seduced by the Sith?” Depa again. “A padawan who cannot please his master seems ripe fruit to pluck.”

 _Sweet Force, what_ has _that boy been saying to his psychologist?_ He had known sending him there was a bad idea.

“Obi-Wan is a poor choice for a Sith for the same reasons the Council has concerns about him facing his trials.”

 _Hah_.

“Elaborate you should.”

“To put it simply, he’s not talented enough. For all that he can use a lightsaber, his usefulness is limited if that Zabrack is the current standard. All the more reason why Anakin needs to be trained in the Light.”

“He seemed talented enough when you took him as your padawan learner.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “Obi-Wan had potential as a boy, but he was hot-headed and stubborn. While he has grown more calm as he has matured, he has shown little improvement in his Living Force skills in the twelve years I have trained him. If the Council feels after three months that he is still not competent to face his trials, perhaps he should not. In the meantime, I could certainly use his assistance in training Anakin in the foundational knowledge he will need as a padawan.”

“Little improvement in twelve years? What of his talents in the Unifying Force?”

“A few vague dreams do not make up for his lack of skills and control.”

He was not sure why, but suddenly the Force had turned cold, as if he had just taken a step too far and was no longer on solid ground.

“Lack of skills and control,” Master Yoda turned to Mace, his tone bitter and painful to hear. “Master Windu, feel you do that Obi-Wan Kenobi lacking is in skills and control?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Remarkable skill and control has he, yes, when twenty-five year old virgin he is.”

The ground gave way. Qui-Gon gripped the arms of his chair, trying to steady himself.

“I am . . . surprised he told you that.”

“Did you assume he would be too embarrassed to admit you found him unworthy of this training?”

“His . . . his lack of maturity made him unsuitable for—”

“Enough.” Yoda’s glare silenced the room. “Ignored Xanato’s hubris you did. Neglected Obi-Wan’s emotional health you have. Barred you are from accepting any padawan learners until dealt with your psychological issues are.”

Jinn’s eyes widened in shock. “Masters, Anakin must be trained. _He must_. The Force—”

“And he will be,” Mace glared at him. “We have decided to accept him as an initiate, with the understanding that Knighthood is just one possible path for him.”

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. They had agreed to accept Anakin for some training. He had been so certain that he should train the boy himself, but in his panic, the Force was now coy and elusive. “If you are concerned I have been insensitive to my previous padawans’ needs, then have Obi-Wan help me. He can serve as my assistant and provide Anakin with additional emotional support and tempered expectations.”

The room grew colder, from all sides. _Has Obi-Wan already failed his trials during the preliminaries?_

“Unavailable to train padawans Knight Kenobi is. Already on his first mission he is.”

Qui-Gon struggled to understand what they wanted from him as his whole read on the situation shifted.

" _Knight_ Kenobi?"

_Obi-Wan had passed? They hadn’t told him? He had passed and had already left on his first mission?_

“You gave him no warning or preparation, you dropped him to take on a different student, you ignored him and you threw him out of his home. And despite all this, when he does pass his trials, you can’t even hide your shock.”

“Anakin needs to be trained.”

“He does,” Mace was cold. “But not by you.”

“Dismissed you are.” Yoda’s face only held disappointment. “Meditate you should on your anger and your fears. Pay for your emotions Obi-Wan has done long enough.” Silently, the assembled Councilors stood and left the chamber. Too stunned to move, Qui-Gon Jinn watched the sun set, trying to grasp when he had gone so far astray and whether the future he had always trusted to come on its own was now doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can, let me know if you want me to keep posting. Other than texting a line or two to a friend, this is completely unseen by other human eyes and I've been writing into the void for a year.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan returns home, visits old friends, meets new friends, and goes stargazing (sort of) while Master Tahl goes on a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics are from _What Becomes of the Broken-Hearted?_
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5I6m7rJr88
> 
> The song was originally recorded by Jimmy Ruffin, but if you are my age you may be more familiar with Paul Young's version from _Fried, Green Tomatoes._ The version in the link is the one I was listening to when I decided to add the quote to this chapter and is from _Live From Daryl's House_ and features Daryl Hall (Hall & Oates) and Patrick Stump (Fall Out Boy).
> 
> Please note that I have never watched Clone Wars, so my depiction of Quinlan Vos is based solely on his Wookiepedia entry, his appearances in other people's fanfic, and a short clip on YouTube. He was depicted as wearing hand-wraps or fingerless gloves, and I sort of ran with it. Kressa Carlin is entirely made up.
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.

_What becomes of the broken-hearted,_

_Who have love that's now departed?_

_I know I've got to find_

_Some kind of peace of mind_

_Maybe . . ._

_\--_ William Weatherspoon, James Dean, Paul Riser, “What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?”

“Welcome back, young Knight,” Vygor shook Obi-Wan’s hand as he stepped across the threshold, cataloging the changes in his patient after four months in the field. Longer hair, brighter eyes, a less stiff posture. Overall, he looked well but could probably use a few good meals and nights of uninterrupted sleep. “Here for a tune up?”

Obi-Wan ducked his head. “If it’s all right. I don’t have any pressing difficulties, but . . .”

Vygor closed the door. “But you can’t exactly go to Master Jinn for new knight advice.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan looked relieved to hear his problem so well-articulated. “And Master Yoda is Master Yoda. He has other responsibilities.”

“I understand, though you should still try to visit him for tea before you leave again. I know he has missed having you around.”

Obi-Wan smiled faintly. “He said as much after my Council Report. I thought he was just being polite.”

Vygor chuckled as they settled into their chairs. “Trust me, Obi-Wan. I eat lunch with him twice a month. Go to tea. Bring biscuits. He’ll be thrilled, so will the regulars. Master Koth has been whining that Tinn’s new padawan overboils the green and Eller is ready to shove the whole biscuit tin down his throat.”

As Yoda’s _de facto_ padawan, Obi-Wan himself had become quite the regular at the Council Tower salons, quietly nibbling up nuggets of wisdom and gossip ahead of his trials. He had rarely had the opportunity to attend with Master Jinn. The tea break served as a casual location where Councilors were publicly accessible but considering how often Qui-Gon was at odds with one or more of them, it had been a rare treat. Still, it would be a nice way to spend an afternoon if he found himself at loose ends.

“So how are you adjusting to field work at the Knight level?”

“It’s challenging and exhausting, but mostly in a good way.” Obi-Wan shifted in his chair, getting comfortable with the luxuries of natural gravity and plush upholstery again. “It’s harder being on my own all the time. I expected it would be a leap to not being a subordinate most of the time, but I think the harder part is having no one to talk the missions out with. No one to compare notes and interpretations with. Having to rely on only my point of view and what I see.”

“No other perspective.”

“Yes,” he frowned. “Sometimes I find I talk to myself when I can’t get enough insight from meditation.”

“Does it help?”

“It does,” Obi-Wan conceded. “I just need to learn to do it silently, so I don’t give away all my thoughts.” He shrugged. “Still working on it.”

“If I may say so, you seem much more at ease with yourself than honestly I have ever seen you. It’s a good change.”

Obi-Wan looked down, modestly. “Thank you. I think getting away for a while helped. Work kept me busy, and with time and distance, I’ve been able to let go of some of the more painful feelings and figure out who I am and what I’m doing.”

“I can see that. You’re more at center. Even your Force presence is more open and not so constrained.”

“Master Yoda gave me a book of meditations and mental exercises when I left. I’ve been working through them.”

“Good, keep at it.” Vygor picked up his datapad. “So, you are having trouble working alone all the time. That is something you can put into your mission feedback forms. Now that you aren’t quite so green,” Obi-Wan’s lip twitched at the description, “if all has been going well, the Council might opt to pair you with other young knights or masters on more complex missions. Give you someone else to talk to, but more autonomy than you had as a padawan.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip, uncertainly. “Wouldn’t they see that as a weakness?”

“If you refused to go on solo missions, yes. Conversely, if you refused to work on teams, that would also be a concern. Telling the Council you would prefer to not be alone _all_ of the time is quite reasonable, and a lot of young knights have trouble figuring out what is reasonable to ask for after having no say their whole lives. Ask to try, see what happens.”

“Thank you, Master Vygor. It’s something to consider.” Obviously thinking it over, he happened to glance at the lopsided mobile over Vygor’s desk. “Didn’t that have another bauble?”

Vygor followed his gaze, then chuckled. “Yes, one of the wires fell off, so it’s been a bit out of balance lately.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “It wasn’t me, was it?”

“No,” Vygor shook his head. “A very distraught padawan whose Master was with the healers. All turned out well in the end, but the releasing of fear into the Force did not go as smoothly as normal and one of the pins snapped.” He held up the missing piece. “I’ve just been too busy and lazy to get the step ladder to get it down to fix it.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, then looked back up to the mobile. With a light touch of Force, the antiqued copper ring the mobile hung from lifted out of the ceiling hook and floated down to rest at a more comfortable height. Obi-Wan held out a hand for the separated parts. “I do recall someone telling me it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.”

Vygor held out the beaded wires in one hand and the tiny pin in the palm of the other, marveling as the whole mobile slowly rotated in the air until the correct side was in view. “They don’t have us healers train to handle such delicate things unless we’re training as surgeons or clinic workers.”

“The surgery I understand,” Obi-Wan’s speech was quieter and slower as he concentrated on holding up the mobile. “But why the clinic workers?” The pin and the wires floated up to join the whole, twisting in the air until they were oriented correctly.

“Children are known to stick all sorts of things in their ears and noses. The Force helps.”

Obi-Wan snorted, but the mobile didn’t so much as twitch. “No doubt.”

Vygor continued to watch as the three parts lined up, then slid together to complete the small repair. Obi-Wan caught his eye and the healer nodded with approval, then the mobile was lifted back up to its place on the hook. Once it was settled, Obi-Wan sat back down.

“Thank you,” Vygor grinned as the mobile gently began to spin, testing its balance. “That was amazing. I can’t manipulate anything that tiny or difficult to reach. They really do train you knights well.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I couldn’t either until I lived with Yoda. Everything in his rooms is tiny and difficult to reach.”

“Including him?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan chuckled a bit, then settled into a slightly more amused serenity. Vygor glanced at his notes, stalling a moment, reluctant to break the good mood.

“I, of course, have to ask how you are handling your sexual feelings, now that you are a knight.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan did not look thrilled, but he did seem less uncomfortable than he had the last time.

“In fairness, it’s something I address with many of my patients, not just you.”

“I’m still chaste if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Hmm,” Vygor wasn’t surprised. Obi-Wan hadn’t seemed the type to rush into relationships. “That answers my next question, what are you doing with these feelings, but I’m more interested in what they are.”

Obi-Wan sighed and resettled into the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I suppose it’s more a question of whether I’m having sexual feelings to begin with, considering how I was the last time we spoke.”

“Are you?”

The mobile began to spin. “Yes, a little. Nothing earth-shattering or distracting, certainly less than when I had been a hormonal teenager.”

Vygor blinked. He had honestly wondered.

“I notice a little more if certain people are attractive. Their face, their eyes, their manner, their physique, how they present in the Force, but . . .” he squirmed, trying to explain. “It really doesn’t make me want to _do_ anything about it.”

“I take it this was not the case when you were a teen?” The mobile spun slightly faster.

Obi-Wan laughed ruefully. “When I was a teen, I didn’t know what I would have done about it, but I remember wanting to do . . . something. Kiss someone or have contact in a not wholly platonic manner. Dance with someone without a diplomatic banquet being involved. As I got older, my . . .” he paused, looking at the wall while the mobile spun steadily, “attentions became focused on my master. I was aware that masters were supposed to introduce their padawans to adult sexual experiences after they reached the age of majority, so I didn’t really wonder about it until I reached that age, and I certainly wasn’t going to pester my master about it.” He shifted again, obviously uncomfortable. “I finally asked about it when I was nineteen, nearly twenty. All of my agemates were undergoing training, some had even completed it and were pairing off amongst themselves, or just building deeper relationships with their masters. So, I asked Master Jinn if this was something we would be undertaking.” He fell silent and the mobile slowly drifted to a stop.

“I take it the answer was not a good one,” Vygor kept his voice gentle.

“I was given a stern lecture about focusing on what was important, my _real_ training, my connection to the Force, the missions we were sent on, the people we were supposed to help, my duty to the Order. He had me write a paper listing all the things I should be paying attention to instead of my ‘hormonal urges’ and made me read it to him out loud. Then he told me I had produced an adequate list of things I should be devoting my energies to, and when I no longer had so many deficits, the question could be reconsidered.” Obi-Wan continued to stare at the wall. “Then he gave me some Living Force exercises and left to spend the night with Master Tahl.”

They were both quiet for a long time.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes were dry, but he closed them against the remembered pain. The mobile swayed as he released his emotions to the Force.

“I take it this was not reconsidered?” Vygor prompted gently.

“Master Jinn would mention it from time to time. I was his padawan for another five years. I never brought it up again, but he sometimes did. Sometimes it was direct, he would tell me I was not ready. Other times he was more subtle, pointing out my deficits without mentioning it, but it colored the conversation if you will, there was just something in his manner or Force presence that indicated he had not forgotten, but I was not there yet. It really hadn’t been _that_ important to me before, I _know_ I wasn’t as pre-occupied with sex as most of my friends. I had just wanted to know where we stood, if this was something I should be preparing for or if he had planned to do it when we had more downtime. We were very busy, rarely in the Temple at all some years. We discussed all of my other academic requirements. When he told me that I wasn’t ready and trying to negotiate peace for the Aresians or monitoring the elections on Gregan IV was more important, I had no reason not to believe him.”

“You do understand this was never about any deficit in yourself, don’t you? There are masters who may opt to delay this training due to intense academic or mission schedules for a few months, but they are responsible for ensuring it happens at an appropriate age. This training is designed to foster maturity, not be held hostage to a lack of it.”

Obi-Wan sighed and nodded before turning back to face Vygor. “Master Yoda discussed it with me after you approved me to go to trials.” He looked down at his boots. “He apologized for not noticing the problem sooner. That seems beyond the scope of his job.”

Vygor shrugged. “He’s Master Yoda. His students are his greatest joy. He felt the Force had led you and Master Jinn together. To see you mistreated and abused troubles him greatly.”

“I understand, but . . . I don’t want him bothered by it. He’s done so much for me already.”

“Obi-Wan, you’re not a burden to him. He saw a student with the potential to become a great Jedi who had been neglected and hurt, and he was not going to let your hard work and talents go to waste. Yoda wears many hats but teaching each new generation of Jedi is his legacy. He feels you were wronged, and it was within his ability to help you.”

“I’m very grateful,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“Good,” Vygor replied. “Go tell him and make his day.”

“Yes, Master Vygor.”

“As much as we can debate what is and isn’t important enough for our Grand Master’s notice, the more pressing question for you is do you want to do anything in regards to your sexual feelings?”

Obi-Wan looked away. “It’s not as if I do _nothing_.”

“You engage in solo activities.”

He shrugged, blushing. “Sometimes. And sometimes I don’t. But I mostly do it to relieve stress or help me sleep if meditation is not sufficient.”

“You don’t think of people you’re attracted to when you pleasure yourself?”

“No, not really.” His tone indicated he was aware this was probably true for other people. “It’s a means to an end.”

“I do hear similar sentiments from other young knights, Obi-Wan. You’re hardly the first Jedi to turn to masturbation to supplement meditation. There are in fact texts and treatises about it, using self-pleasure to connect more clearly to the Force and to find your center.”

Obi-Wan flushed scarlet. “I know. I, um, haven’t read that chapter yet.”

“Hmm?”

He looked away, still blushing. “In the book from Master Yoda. There was a chapter. He told me he didn’t want me to work myself into the ground and ignore self-care.”

“That’s very . . .” Vygor struggled for the right words.

“The rest of the book was more conventional. I doubt Master Yoda was referring to that specifically.”

Knowing Yoda, Vygor had no doubt he meant all of it. “Well, you’re scheduled to have some downtime at the Temple. Recharge, take some knight’s seminars, tighten your form. Maybe when you move into your own quarters you can get into that chapter. Or just keep doing as you are doing. You’ve made excellent progress; I’m not criticizing your growth. But if you do want to explore your own sexuality, self-pleasure is a good place to start.”

Obi-Wan glanced back at the mobile, spinning slowly, but this time it was just the air circulation system dictating the movement. “Master Vygor, if I decide to remain celibate, is there anything wrong with that, as a Jedi?”

“No,” Vygor leaned forward to emphasize his point. “So long as you ensure any students under your wing are properly educated and not made to feel they must also be celibate, and it is not causing you distress, there is nothing wrong with it.”

Obi-Wan looked back at the healer. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming.”

“Hmm, you must be strong in the Force. Yes, _but_ I think it would serve you well to open your mind to other possibilities. When you first came to see me, and told me you had not been trained, I honestly wondered if you were asexual, mainly because you were so utterly matter of fact about it.”

"I’ve also considered this,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“I’ve seen padawans frothing at the mouth because their masters wanted to hold off until their exams were completed, and your training was seven years overdue.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I know I’m not normal.”

“You’re not typical. You’re still normal.” Vygor spoke quietly, his face serious. “Based on what you told me today, I think that might not be the case here.” He began ticking off points on his fingers. “You say you’ve always been less interested in sex than your peers. That is consistent with your personality. You’re focused and goal oriented. A low sex drive sounds like it’s normal for you, but it doesn’t sound as if you have no sex drive, and it’s clear your master instructed you to redirect what urges you did have, rather than encouraging you to explore them. If this opportunity was missed, maybe you should take it now.”

“So, you think I should . . . indulge in . . .”

“Self-exploration.” Vygor laughed at Obi-Wan’s serious look, despite himself. “It’s a suggestion, Obi-Wan, not a prescription. It’s also where Sexuality Training starts for most padawans anyway.”

Obi-Wan sighed as the chime rang, indicating their time was up. “Better late than never?” he asked as he got up to leave.

“And if you don’t like it, stop.” Vygor smiled at the young man as he left, clearly deep in thought, then made a mental note to ask Yoda about that book.

* * *

The Visitor’s Hall at the base of the Council tower abruptly filled with a large crowd of initiates and training masters, freshly released from a field trip to observe the daily Council Meeting and late for snack time. Momentarily overwhelmed by the crush of the crowd and the sheer number of poorly shielded Force sensitives, Tahl clung to the wall, waiting for the chaos to pass before she tried to reorient herself. After a few moments she felt a strong, young, masculine presence approach and stand beside her, probably planning to rescue the little old woman and curry favor with the Council members present.

“Would you care for some assistance?” He had pitched his voice moderately loud, but still had to lean into her personal space to be heard over the din.

“No, I would _not_ care for ‘assistance,’” she shot her best Blind Jedi glare in his general direction. “The Force did not put me here so you could show the Jedi Council how kind you are to infirm old women.”

The man’s body drew back slowly, but the flinch in his Force presence felt familiar.

“I’m sorry, Master Tahl. I meant no offense.” He radiated sincere apology.

She opened her mouth to chastise him again when her brain caught up to his words. _Master Tahl._ He knew her. She replayed it in her mind.

_Mah-ster Tahl._

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes. I apologize, Master. You had seemed to be impeded.”

“Obi-Wan,” she reached for his arm that had been so close but had withdrawn at her curt refusal. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you.”

He relaxed slightly, relieved to have the misunderstanding cleared up. “Yes, it’s very loud in here.” He didn’t just mean the noise, which was finally abating. “Though after my trials, I’m sure I’d have to do something much more impressive to win the Council’s favor than escort someone as capable as yourself through a sea of starving younglings.”

“You passed your Trials, young Knight, and very well I hear too. There is no one you need to impress. You may escort me because you are a well-mannered gentleman.” She took his offered arm. “You feel different. More confident perhaps?”

“I try,” he shrugged. “Where were you headed?” He turned slightly to scan the crowd and the package he was holding crinkled.

“To the Council Tea. Adi Gallia was bringing a new tea blend.” She trailed her hand along his arm until she encountered the package. “What’s this?”

“Choc-dipped mallo biscuits for Master Yoda. Healer Vygor said I should visit with him.” He stepped out into the fray, Tahl at his side, their arms linked.

“Vygor’s right, he’s missed you.” She stopped speaking as they ducked and weaved their way around the large hall, finally reaching the alcoves where the different masters held their salons.

“Can you sense Master Gallia? I don’t know her well enough to pick her out individually.” Obi-Wan peered into the nearest nook but it only held a few padawans setting kettles to boil.

“Screw Adi, take me to Yoda. Master Tahl goes where the choco-mallo biscuits go.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Won’t Master Gallia miss you?” He attempted to find Master Yoda through the Force, which was still a challenge with so many other powerful Jedi scattered about willy-nilly.

“Master Gallia also goes where the choco-mallo biscuits go.”

“Perhaps I should have brought a larger package.”

“You learn quickly, young knight.”

The familiar scent of Yoda’s preferred tea blend greeted his nose just as he was able to pick out the master’s bright presence in the Force. He carefully guided Master Tahl across the marble floor to another cozy nook, lit by small votive candles in the carved niches in the wall. Master Yoda sat against the back wall on one of the many floor cushions, pouring out tea for Mace on the next cushion. As Obi-Wan and Tahl came to the doorway he spied them, ears perking up.

“Obi-Wan! Good to see you it is! Join us for tea you will?”

Tahl poked Obi-Wan lightly in the ribs, smiling. “He brought you a present, Master Yoda.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and leaned down to hand off the biscuits to the tiny master who was wiggling his ears and fingers in anticipation.

“Mmm, good taste you have.”

“Merely observant, Master Yoda.” He guided Tahl to an empty cushion, then sat down beside her as Yoda noisily opened the package.

“Hrmm,” Yoda glanced at him speculatively as he pulled out a biscuit. “Found my stash you did.” He shoved half the biscuit into his mouth.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan conceded, unable to conceal his amusement. “You also shared your stash when I was up half the night studying the Treaty of Virdis III.”

“Master Yoda!” Mace put up his hands, mock scandalized. “Is it true you _helped_ Padawan Kenobi when he was studying for his trials?”

Yoda swallowed the sticky treat, eyes mischievous. “No problem you had when biscuits I gave you.” He took another bite.

“Oh, well that’s all right then.” Mace, Tahl and Obi-Wan broke into laughter while Yoda chewed contentedly. “It’s good to see you Knight Kenobi. Tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Mace poured out more cups as Yoda was pre-occupied with enjoying his treat. “It’s good to see you Obi-Wan, you’re looking well. What do you have planned for your rest period before we throw you out into the cold, cruel galaxy again?”

“Catching up on sleep.” This earned a round of knowing chuckles. “I’m moving into new quarters tomorrow morning and I’ve applied for Master Noughten’s Sabre Building Workshop next week.”

“Problem with your sabre there is?” Yoda asked, concerned.

“No, Master, not a problem.” Obi-Wan sipped his tea. “It’s serviceable, but I didn’t have as much time to work on it ahead of my trials as I would have liked. Not to mention that there have been situations where a single-crystal sabre have not had sufficient power.”

“Hmm, moving up you are.”

“I doubt I’ll finish it on this visit, Master Yoda, but,” he grew quiet a moment. “I don’t know what I might come up against out there.”

“Given what was recovered from the Sith weapon, that sounds like an excellent use of your time.”

“What happened to your last saber?” Tahl asked, concerned.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan sounded somewhat embarrassed. “I had to drop it down a melting pit to prevent myself falling down said melting pit.” He frowned at his teacup, his whole demeanor deflating. “I’m surprised Master Jinn had not mentioned it.”

“He’s not here.”

Obi-Wan looked up at the group, surprised and concerned.

“Gone to Healer’s Temple on Trell he has.”

Obi-Wan seemed hesitant. “If I may ask, is he alright?”

Tahl listened carefully to the byplay, curious as to why Obi-Wan would not feel it his place to ask about his former master. She knew there had been some sort of falling out between the two of them but had been away from the Temple on an extended assignment at the time.

“Rehabilitation and therapy. Minor surgeries if needed.” Having finished his biscuit, Yoda made a show of passing around the package before taking a second one. Tahl was somber as she took one, paying more attention to the conversation than the food.

“Surgery?” Obi-Wan was clearly concerned but still distant.

“Yes,” Mace took his own biscuit, shaking his head as he handed the rest back round to Yoda, who had followed the pack with his eyes. “He’s having Master Yoda’s gimer stick removed from his ass.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan looked at his tea. “Arguing with the Council again.”

“Arguing still,” Mace corrected. “Some of that therapy is psychological. Council’s orders.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan picked at his biscuit.

“That’s long past due. Hopefully he’ll cooperate this time.” Tahl picked up her own biscuit, biting into it with relish.

“Hopefully Anakin will prove sufficient motivation for him to cooperate,” Obi-Wan sighed into his teacup. “I found therapy to be very helpful.”

Tahl patted him on the hand and when she felt his attention, gave him a thumbs up of approval, mouth too full to say so out loud.

“Anakin’s still here, in the Initiate’s Quarters.”

Obi-Wan looked up sharply. “Why is he not with Master Qui-Gon?”

“Under censure Qui-Gon is,” Yoda reached for the tea leaves to start a new pot. “Treated poorly his last padawan was.”

Obi-Wan stilled, a worried expression on his face. Tahl sat in stunned silence.

“Is there anyone looking in on Anakin? I know all this upheaval was stressful to me. I imagine he is feeling even worse.”

“The initiate masters are keeping an eye on him, as are his instructors.” Mace selected a small fruit from the communal bowl and began peeling it.

“Does he have a therapist?” Obi-Wan asked.

There was a long moment of silence before Yoda turned to Mace. “A bad idea that is not.”

“That is a lot of change for a child to go through,” Tahl spoke quietly, having heard about the boy through Temple gossip and later Qui-Gon’s letters. “Especially one accustomed to the safety of parents.”

“Agreed,” Mace conceded after a long moment.

“See Vygor tomorrow I will. Give recommendation he can.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Feels right in the Force this does?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, blocking out his elders, quieting his mind to hear the whispers the Force had been telling him ever since Qui-Gon Jinn woke up in the ward and told Anakin he was not dead yet. Tahl turned her own attention to him, feeling the young knight’s Force presence much more clearly and openly than she had when he was a padawan. Finally, he opened his eyes. “Yes, Master Yoda, it does.”

“Feel the rightness I do too,” Yoda agreed. “Still clouded he is, but more light there is now.”

Mace nodded. “Good suggestion, Obi-Wan.” He shifted, mentally clearing out the melancholy mood that had settled on the group. “You need to come see us more often.”

Obi-Wan smiled, also trying to lighten the atmosphere. “And bring more biscuits?”

“Oh, yes, definitely that,” Tahl patted his arm, both in friendship and to sense him better. A trace of residual energy from his recent meditation still lingered and she puzzled over the sensation. He really _did_ feel different.

“Rumor has it _someone_ brought choco-mallo biscuits in here and isn’t sharing with the other salons,” Adi Gallia stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. Behind her stood a new knight, tall and blonde, her hair length indicating perhaps half a year since her trials. She was also holding an enormous tea pot with potholders. “Are you going to invite us in?”

Yoda clutched the package defensively. “Gift for me they are.” His expression was stern but there was a smile in his voice. “Share I might if good stories you have.”

Adi raised an eyebrow then jerked her head over her shoulder. “Kressa just got back from the Outer Rim with Vos. She has some very good stories.” The young knight in question stiffened a bit, intimidated by this new audience of three Council members and two strangers as opposed to just the one Council member she knew well.

Yoda gestured for the two of them to sit and made a show of reopening the packet. “Stories you have, better be good.”

* * *

Obi-Wan looked up at the knock, hoping it was someone he actually wanted to see. He was still settling into his quarters in the Knight’s Tower and the neighbors in his apartment block were nice enough, but many of them had been knights for a few years or had lived in the Padawan Quarters before their trials. Friendly but boisterous. He supposed a little more noise was good for him, and being Jedi, everyone _did_ keep it down at night.

“Bant?” Obi-Wan grinned to find his oldest friend at the door. “It’s so good to see you,” he gave her a welcome hug, heedless of her damp robes.

“Master Tahl told me you were back in Temple and you had your own rooms now.” She pulled away. “Are you going to invite me in?”

“Of course,” he moved to let her in, and she followed into his still spartan chambers. “I don’t have much to offer right now. Tea, water, fruit?”

“Yes, I heard Master Yoda got the biscuits.” She looked around, taking in the bland nothingness. “Do you want to go shopping while we’re both home? There’s a flea market in two days in the next district.”

Obi-Wan followed her gaze, frowning. “That bad?”

“Obi-Wan, everything here is standard issue from the Quartermaster.” She peeked into his bedroom with the neatly made, though plain, twin bed. “Even the sheets. And the bed. You could have requested a full-sized bed you know.”

He shrugged. “In Yoda’s room I used a sleeping mat. A single bed _is_ an improvement. Besides, I’ve only been here for thirty hours. I have food, sheets, socks, and underwear. The rest will come in time.”

She smacked him gently on the shoulder. “Bantha poodoo. I’ve seen prison cells homier than this.”

“I do have some flat pics to put up. I wasn’t able to take much with me when I left.”

Bant gave him a disbelieving look. “When you left the Temple?”

“When I left Master Jinn’s quarters.” His face closed up and he walked toward the kitchenette. “The flea market sounds like a fine idea. Tea?”

“Sure. Green if you have it.” She peered around the common room while he prepped the tea in a standard issue pot and kettle. Tea was serious business for Jedi, so at least those were high quality, if dull to look at.

The couch was brown and functional. The shades were brown and functional. The small caff table was brown and functional. The bookshelf was brown and functional. It looked like a cell in a monastery that worshipped office furniture. The bookshelf had a few academic texts, a new copy of the Lightsaber Handbook, and a book of meditations with a bookmark stuck in the pages. Bant peeked inside. Pretty standard, though the next chapter looked interesting. Still being nosy, she wandered into the bedroom. Metal bedframe, small chest of drawers, utilitarian desk, standard lights, clothes in the closet. There was a small box from Stores sitting on the desk, opened but not otherwise dealt with. A peek inside revealed data storage chips, the small, afore-mentioned flat pics, and shoved to one corner a padawan braid. There were no knick-knacks or house-warming gifts. None of the traditional gifts from master to padawan. Hell, the only Jedi she knew who had their own padawan braids only got them when their masters passed into the Force. Master Tahl was right, this had been much worse than they’d heard.

“My closet is not all that interesting,” Obi-Wan called out as he placed her mug on the caff table.

“Your apartment isn’t all that interesting. You need a plant. Even a fake one. And furnishings that aren’t brown.”

“The fresher was redone. There’s an actual tub.”

“As your loyal friend and a Mon Calamari, I’ll pretend that is half as exciting for you as it would be for me.” She peeked in. “It’s a nice tub.”

Another knock came and Obi-Wan frowned as Bant picked up her tea; the person on the other side was not familiar. He opened the door.

“Welcome Wagon!” Kressa stood in the hallway holding a decent-sized crate in both hands, grinning cheerfully. Behind her was a much taller man in knight’s robes, long dreadlocks hanging down from his head, sporting yellow facial tattoos and fingerless gloves. “Quinlan and I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” She gestured back and forth between the two of them. “Obi-Wan, this is Knight Quinlan Vos. Quin, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan glanced back at Bant apologetically, then stepped back to let them in.

“And I can tell you’re a brand-new knight by that half-grown out padawan cut,” Quinlan Vos grinned back. “Kress just makes a point of introducing me like that because she says I don’t look like a ‘real Jedi.’” He looked around, startled a moment by the austere furnishings and that Obi-Wan was still dressed in nearly all of his Jedi garb despite it being after supper hour while on rest period. “I take it you don’t have that problem.”

“On my last assignment I had a municipal governor ask me to go wait in the lobby and comm him when ‘the Jedi’ arrived. That’s what I get for taking off my robe in the spaceport.”

“You didn’t tell that one at tea,” Kressa gave him a charming smile.

“I’ll have to remember it for next time.” He turned to welcome Bant into the group. “My good friend, Knight Bant Eerin. Bant, this is Knights Kressa Carlin and Quinlan Vos. Kressa was at Master Gallia’s salon yesterday.”

“Pleasure,” Bant shook hands with the newcomers while Kressa juggled the box.

“We were just having tea if you’d like some,” Obi-Wan gestured to the table. “You can put the box down, it looks heavy.”

“Just unwieldly,” Kressa assured him. “And it’s for you. We get a lot of turnover, there are always new knights coming in and older knights moving out when they pair off or take padawans, so when people move out, they put in a few items to help people moving in.” She took off the lid of the crate. “Light cubes, power packs, picture hangers, ration bars, that sort of thing. We try to throw in some new stuff too, but it helps everyone get started.”

“You sure look like you need it,” Vos looked as if his brain caught up with his mouth a second too late.

“Yes, well Bant was just expressing similar sentiments. Tea?” Obi-Wan went to the kitchen at their nods.

“You don’t have social life packed in there, do you?” Bant asked.

“Very funny,” Obi-Wan called from the kitchen.

“He’s very serious,” Kressa observed. “But also funny.”

“Yes, if you can get him to loosen up. He’s had a rough year.” Bant peered into the crate. “Thanks for helping out. He really needs it.”

Quinlan followed Obi-Wan into the kitchen, which was just as austere as the rest of the apartment.

Obi-Wan turned to him. “I’m afraid your reputation precedes you. I was just going to ask if you preferred a ceramic cup or a disposable one, given your talents. Everything is new, but I did wash all the dining ware this morning.”

“Huh,” Quinlan was not used to people going out of their way to be accommodating of his hyper-psychometry. “Well, if the cups are new, the disposable’s only better if you can pour the tea without touching it.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at the challenge. With a light Force touch the top cup from the stack above photon oven lifted off, floated across the room and set itself upright on the counter. Quinlan gave a low whistle as his new neighbor filled the paper and ceramic cups with hot tea.

“Only the top one. Nice. You used to work in the caff stand?”

“I lived with Master Yoda for three months.”

“Twenty-four/seven training in the Force?”

“Something like that.” Obi-Wan picked up the ceramic cup to take to Kressa, leaving Quinlan to be the sole person handling his cup.

“How’d you know about the,” he flexed the fingers on his unoccupied hand, “cup thing.”

“Diplomatic mission to Kiffu when I was a padawan. I was also screened for psychometry but I’m not very skilled with it. Just enough to extrapolate some everyday annoyances.”

They rejoined Kressa and Bant who were sitting on the couch, laughing. Obi-Wan gestured for Vos to take the remaining space while he drew his desk chair into the room.

“I apologize for the less than homey accommodations.”

“We’ve seen worse,” Kressa assured him. “Lico’s room was wall to wall boxes when he moved in, and then there is Doulian, who’s always tinkering with his lightsaber and leaving the parts everywhere, and Eveldine, who is a total clothes horse. At least here we can sit.”

“If you come by my rooms, don’t wear dry clean only,” Bant advised. Obi-Wan nodded in agreement.

“Sauna party in Bant’s quarters!” Quinlan held up his tea as if it were a much harder drink.

“Maybe,” Bant conceded. “Not any time soon.”

“Oh well,” Quinlan seemed more amused than disappointed.

Kressa smiled brightly. “So, Obi-Wan, did you apprentice with Master Tahl or Master Yoda? You knew them both so well at the salon it was hard to tell.”

Obi-Wan swallowed his tea carefully, startled by the question. “Neither. Bant was Master Tahl’s padawan.”

“You’ll have to excuse Kress; she didn’t spend much time on Coruscant as a padawan.” Quinlan rolled his eyes at her affronted look. “Your reputation precedes you too. You’re Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan.”

“You know him?” Kressa boggled.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m afraid to ask what reputation that is, exactly.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan grinned at Kressa before answering. “Dedicated student, rule-following foil to Jinn’s rebellious ways, doing knight level diplomacy while still a padawan, terror in the saber salle.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan looked very surprised. “That is not what I would have thought.”

“And he desperately needs to get out more.” Bant stuck her tongue out at him, teasingly.

“And you and your master tangled with a Sith.” Quinlan grinned at Obi-Wan speculatively. “I’ve been wanting to test my skills against you or your master for a while, but now, with the Sith in play, I really want to. Any chance you’re interested in some friendly neighborhood saber dueling?”

“I do need to brush up on my saber skills,” Obi-Wan conceded.

“Kressa and I work out in Hall 6-10 every morning at seventh hour if you want to join us sometime.” He looked at Bant. “You’re welcome to join us as well, of course.”

Bant gave a wet snort. “No, thank you. I haven’t been able to keep up with him since before I was knighted. Though I may have to come watch, it sounds like this could be quite the show.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I haven’t sparred with Master Jinn since he was injured.” He looked at Quinlan. “I’d love to get some sparring in, but I’m not in top form. It’s been months since my trials.”

“I’m sure we can learn from each other,” Quinlan looked rather eager.

Kressa hid her smile behind her teacup. “And on that note, we should probably go. I have a diplomacy seminar in the morning and Quin here is supposed to be helping with a psychometry class tomorrow, so we best get moving. It was nice to meet you, Bant, and thank you for the tea.”

Obi-Wan collected the various cups. “It was nice having you.” Quinlan drained the last of his tea before handing his over, his bare fingertips brushing Obi-Wan’s hand as he took it. Obi-Wan gave him a searching look, as if unsure if the gesture was an attempt to read him or flirtation. Quinlan Vos grinned, revealing nothing.

“See you in the salle.” He nodded at the Mon Calamarian, “Knight Bant.” Quinlan and Kressa showed themselves out. Kressa immediately scurried down the hall, dragging Vos behind her by his gloved wrist, not speaking until they were behind closed doors.

“He’s _hot_ , isn’t he?” she squealed. “And you knew who he was!”

Quinlan held up his hands, urging her to calm down. “Hot, yes, but with baggage. You didn’t tell me we were meeting Obi-Wan Kenobi. Sheesh, Kressa.”

“More like a lack of baggage, _damn_ , that was an empty room.” She turned to the elder knight. “How do you know him, what’s this Sith business?”

“How is it that you never keep up on current events and the here and now, yet I’m the one they always expect is slacking off and not serious in their commitment to the Force?”

“You wore dreadlocks as a padawan,” Kressa crossed her arms over her chest. “Who is he?”

“You know Qui-Gon Jinn, yes? Senior diplomat? Master of the Living Force?”

“Maverick Jedi and your personal hero?”

“Run through by a Sith and nearly died last year? Found a Force-sensitive child right before that with an _insane_ midi-chlorian count and tried to take him as his new padawan about seven months ago, before the Sith thing? Obi-Wan Kenobi was his last padawan.”

Kressa frowned. “Are you sure? Master Yoda said at tea that Obi-Wan was only knighted four months ago.”

Quin’s expression darkened. “That explains a lot.”

Kressa looked him over. “Spill it, Quinlan. I saw you do it. What did you get?”

“Not much.”

“Not much? We were there for almost half an hour!”

“Everything in the apartment was straight from the Quartermaster.” He remembered the paper cup. “He’s got strong diplomatic skills and he’s adept at telekinesis.”

“Not that,” Kressa huffed. “Gay? Straight? Bi? Sleeping with Bant?”

Quin laughed. “I honestly couldn’t tell. I think he picked up on my interest, but he didn’t make a move.”

Kressa sighed. “I think Master Tahl and Master Gallia were trying to set us up at the salon, but he didn’t bite there either.” She shot her eyes to Quinlan. “He is _really_ hot.”

“He’s healing,” Quinlan said, his gaze subconsciously directed toward Obi-Wan’s apartment. “He’s making a new start. Simmer down. Yes, he’s hot, but you heard Bant. Go easy on him.” He frowned. “He doesn’t know he’s all that.”

“How could he not know?” Kressa wondered.

“He was Jinn’s padawan. It’s hard to know how bright you shine when you walk two steps behind a star.”

Back at Obi-Wan’s apartment, Bant pretended to ‘help’ Obi-Wan clean up by poking through the welcome crate while he washed the mugs and teapot. “Kressa likes you,” she called. “Ooh, there’s choco in here!”

“Really?” Obi-Wan peered around the doorframe, wiping a cup dry. “Why do you think so?”

“She said so out loud while Quinlan Vos was flirting with you in the kitchen. He likes you too, by the way.”

“No,” Obi-Wan dismissed the idea. “He’s just interested in hearing more about the Sith. Can’t blame him there.”

“Yeah? And what about that not so subtle finger massage thing? You two had a moment there. For a Kiffer, that’s practically eye sex.”

Obi-Wan turned away to put the cups into the cabinets. “We did _not_ have a moment.”

“Yes, you did,” she poked some more. “Ooh, massage oil. Maybe you can use that the next time those two stop by.”

Obi-Wan came back into the living room. “I can use that the next time I sprain something.”

“Practical to a fault.” She sat back down on the couch. “Obi-Wan, I know you and Qui-Gon had a nasty falling out, but don’t you think it’s time you find someone you don’t have to share with Master Tahl?”

Obi-Wan’s expression closed abruptly, his Force presence becoming more guarded. “Bant, I didn’t share Master Jinn with Master Tahl. I didn’t have a sexual relationship with him.”

Bant looked at him in disbelief. “Obi, he always chased off or intimidated anyone who was interested in you.”

“That happened once, and that was because he thought Greval would be a bad influence on me and look how that turned out. Master Jinn was always worried I’d turn or falter from the Light. He really didn’t care if I ever slept with anyone, just that I kept working hard.”

“It wasn’t just Greval,” Bant muttered, but she let it go. “Regardless, I think you could have fun with either of those two. Or both.” Bant got up to leave.

“I really don’t think either of them were that interested.”

“There’s a huge box of condoms in there,” Bant pointed at the welcome crate on his caff table. “Brand new too.”

“Or not.”

Bant turned back at the door, giggling. “Dust it for fingerprints! See which one bought it!” She held up her hands. “Or psychometry!” She laughed harder.

“Abuse of Force talents. Plus, I’m terrible at it.”

“Eh, just go be yourself in the salle, you’ll have your pick. Good night, Obi-Wan. Take care of yourself.”

He hugged her again. “Goodnight, Bant. Thanks for visiting.”

After he closed the door behind Bant, he locked it for the night, removed his tabard, outer tunic and boots, then settled on the couch to continue his reading. The next meditation exercise required a full-length mirror, a mat or towel to kneel on, a room with few distractions and either a candle or full lights.

“Room with no distractions, check.”

A new jar candle peeked out of one corner of the crate on the table. There was a full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. He seemed to have everything on the list, he could certainly try it. He read over the different steps more carefully.

“What?” He read it again. “Why do you have to be naked?”

Oh.

 _Oh._ He’d reached _that_ chapter.

Did he really _want_ to do this?

He was alone, in the safety of the Temple, with no pressing responsibilities until morning. There was no reason not to. He read through it again. There was no reason to do it either.

He wasn’t unhappy with his life or unsatisfied with what he had, through he was tired of the upheaval and was hoping to use his down time to be gain more balance and increase his connection to the Force.

_This meditation is designed to help center and ground the practitioner in the Force through awareness of the physical body. Useful for exploring both the Living and Unifying Force, this meditation is for single practitioners, though variations are presented later for couples and small groups of intimates._

Well, he wasn’t planning on _that_ variation any time soon.

_If the practitioner is of a sex and species with an intromittent organ (ie. penis) or is prone to ejaculation/discharge at climax, use of condoms or other containment products may be useful to facilitate clean up, particularly in low gravity/no gravity environments. While orgasm is not the objective of this exercise, it is not a discouraged outcome._

Bant _had_ said there were condoms in the crate. It wasn’t as if he tended to stock them himself.

_You have better things to focus on than the base pleasures of the body, Padawan._

_Take care of yourself you must. Balance you need to be best Jedi you can._

_Your connection to and focus on the Living Force is inadequate and a disappointment._

_If you don’t like it, stop._

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and called on a technique from an earlier chapter to quiet the voices arguing in his head. The tower was quiet. There was nowhere he needed to be and nothing he needed to do. “Live in the moment, Kenobi.” Book in hand, he got up to strip off his clothes and find his brand-new towels. Tomorrow was laundry day, anyway.

* * *

“Jedi Master Tahl, it is such a pleasure to meet you,” the docent waiting at the rail stop greeted the venerable archivist, offering an arm. “May I assist you?”

Tahl removed the smoked glasses she had worn to signal her blindness to the non-Force sensitives she had been crowded in with on the public transport and took a reading on the man in front of her. Genuinely polite, no ulterior motives beyond getting people where they needed or wanted to go. It made sense that the docents of a healing temple would be more accustomed to treating the differently abled.

“Thank you, Docent?”

“Ran, Master.”

“Docent Ran, I have never visited the Temple at Trell before.”

“Where can I take you, and what are you planning to do here, if I may ask?”

Tahl could sense multiple complex thoughts as Ran tried to decide the best routes to take that would serve the visitor’s needs. “I’m here _officially_ to clear up some discrepancies between your archives and our files at the Main Temple, but I am also here to visit with Master Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Ah, yes. Master Jinn. He could use a friendly face.” Ran began sketching out a basic map in the Force to give Tahl the layout. “The Medical Archives are on the far side of the Healing Complex. If you are entering from the outside, I recommend taking the shuttle rather than walking. We get a lot of rain this time of year. Your room will be in the Visitor’s Quarters _here_ , which is connected to both the Recovery Wing and the Outpatient Quarters. Shall I guide you to your room and help you get your bioprint keyed into the system?”

“That would be a kindness, thank you.”

“This way,” Ran began to lead her gently toward the main path. The Force map traveled with them, their location pulsing softly as they moved along, Ran pointing out important sites along the way.

“You’re very talented in Force-derived, non-visual representation.”

Ran chuckled. “I was a spy for the Council before I was a docent. I like using my talents for this better in my retirement.” They continued, Ran leading less and less as Tahl oriented herself, matching the map to the external environment. “We had reserved a room for you on Floor 3, but would you prefer to be on the same floor as Master Jinn? It will not be difficult to move the adaptive communications equipment to a new location.”

“Yes, thank you. That will be very helpful. As important as the archival issues are, my primary concern is Qui-Gon right now.”

“It is good to hear that Master Jinn has such concerned friends. It’s clear he has felt very alone.”

“I know, but unfortunately he’s burned some bridges and those take time to rebuild.” _If you can rebuild them at all_.

They reached a door on the fifth floor of the Visitor’s Center and Ran keyed them in. “I am sorry to hear that. I do hope your visit will spur Master Jinn into making some progress.” He carefully led her into the room and to the desk chair, then performed the necessary procedures to allow her to access their systems.

“The system now accepts you as a Guest Recordkeeper. I trust you will not abuse your access to invade Master Jinn’s privacy?”

“No,” smiled Tahl. “I have other means of persuading Qui-Gon to talk.”

“Here’s hoping. If I may be so bold as to suggest it, Master Jinn usually takes his evening meal on the back patio. I could arrange to have your dinner brought there as well if you wished to join him. The Archives day staff will be shutting down in the next half hour, so it may serve you better to visit in the morning.”

“Yes, that would be ideal.”

“Evening meal will be in about an hour. Do you need assistance getting there?” He sketched out the route in the Force.

“I think I can manage, thank you so much.” Tahl smiled as Ran showed himself out, then busied herself unpacking and checking her messages. Another staff member soon arrived with the adaptive equipment and by the time they left she had just enough time to freshen up before leaving for the patio.

She could pick him out almost immediately, sitting alone in the far corner despite the depressive air he was stewing in. Clearly, he had not been cooperating with therapy. _Again._

“Qui-Gon Jinn. Fancy meeting you here.” She could feel his startled reaction.

“Tahl? Why are you here?”

“Officially, I’m here for archival work. Unofficially, I’m here because we really need to talk, and you really need to get with the program. The galaxy needs you.”

“You don’t need me?” She heard him get up and pull out her chair like a gentleman. It was a good sign that at least he was cooperating with _physical_ therapy.

“I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. So no, I don’t need you, but I’d prefer you in my life and maybe with a little less drama?”

“You think I’m being dramatic?” He sounded insulted but his Force presence betrayed timid curiosity.

“I think you’re being stubborn.”

He was quiet for a long time. “You know how important this is, Tahl. His midi-chlorian count—”

“Yes, I know Qui-Gon. His midi-chlorian count is sky high. I get it. That doesn’t mean he’s cut out to be a Jedi.”

Their dinner arrived. Qui-Gon seemed surprised that the staff also delivered food for Tahl and disappointed that visitor food seemed much more appetizing than the nutrient rich slop his healer had prescribed. He put Tahl’s food at her preferred locations, then played with his own dinner.

“Why did the Council reject Anakin for training?”

“They said he was too old.”

“That’s the official answer you couldn’t argue with. What was the real reason?”

“I don’t know.” The slop was still slop.

“Eat your food, don’t play with it.” She cut a piece off her filet and ate it, savoring the flavor. Qui-Gon wished he had food he could chew. “Did you ask what the reasons were? Did you ask how his tests went or what went wrong?”

“The Council made the wrong decision.”

“And you got belligerent.” She sighed. “Yoda is pissed at you. _Really_ pissed.”

“Yoda of all people should know I follow the will of the Force.”

“ _You_ of all people should know how to negotiate. You aren’t the mediator when you deal with the Council. You’re the petitioner. If you want them to consider your view, you can’t throw a tantrum because they don’t agree with you.”

Not having a good answer, Qui-Gon opted to actually swallow some slop.

“I saw Obi-Wan last week. He came to Yoda’s salon and Bant went to see him in his new quarters.”

“How is _Knight_ Kenobi?”

“Coming into his own, I think. Running his own missions, finding his place in the Force, making new friends. Bant says Quinlan Vos is quite taken with him.”

“Hmph,” Qui-Gon glared at his slop, that was daring not to disappear on its own. “Obi-Wan is too much of a rule-follower for someone like Vos to take seriously.”

“Or someone like you.”

“I trained him. I took him seriously enough.”

Tahl finished her meal, put down her cutlery and slid her tray toward the unoccupied side of the table. “Qui-Gon, Bant told me something that has me concerned.”

“About Anakin?”

She resisted the urge to stab him with a fork. “About Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan is knighted now. He’s no longer my concern.”

“Bant said Obi-Wan told her the two of you didn’t have a sexual relationship. Now I _know_ Obi-Wan worshipped you, and you didn’t approve of him having outside relationships, so tell me, what was going on there? I know we went on a break when Obi-Wan and Bant made senior padawans so they could get their S-training, and we agreed that we each needed to foster trust and unity with our padawans. So why weren’t you and Obi-Wan having sex and why did you throw him out like yesterday’s trash? What the Sith Hell happened?”

“Nothing happened. Anakin happened. The Sith happened. The Council happened.”

Tahl remained silent, knowing Qui-Gon would eventually continue.

“I couldn’t let Anakin go untrained, so I took him as a my padawan learner. You know that.”

“When had you planned on sending Obi-Wan to his trials?”

“I didn’t. He wasn’t ready.”

“When were you planning on making him ready?” The silence dragged on. “Qui-Gon?”

“It became clear he was never going to be ready.” Qui-Gon expected the same cold feeling, that drop-off feeling in the Force, but Tahl’s presence just stayed quiet, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“He was a poor student of the Living Force, he was impulsive, immature, he couldn’t even keep hold of his damn lightsaber, he didn’t keep up when I needed him, and he was never—”

“He was never what, Qui-Gon?” Tahl prompted when he remained silent.

“He was never going to be ready.”

“That wasn’t what you were going to say, Qui-Gon.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the bottom line.”

“Yoda took him in for three months and he passed his trials with high honors. What was Yoda able to do that you were not?”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, not that Tahl could see it. “Are you sure they didn’t just pass him to save face and discredit me?” And _there_ it was, the cold chill, the step too far. A less serene woman would have slapped him in the face.

“The High Council does not pass knights to make themselves look good or to punish you. I know you are angry. I know you are frightened. I know you feel ignored and you’ve never been that close to death before, and that you don’t know if you can ever go out into the field again. Surprise Qui-Gon, we’re _old_. But don’t you dare diminish Obi-Wan’s accomplishments just because you’re angry and afraid. That’s beneath you as a Jedi, and it sure as Hell is beneath you as his master.”

Qui-Gon scowled. For all her blindness Tahl had impeccable aim.

“So why did you think he would never be ready?”

“He was immature.”

Tahl raised an eyebrow.

“He has no grasp of the Living Force.”

“That’s not where his talents lie, Qui-Gon, you _know_ that.”

“He’s accident prone and careless. He’s constantly with the healers.”

“You go on twice as many missions as the average master and his style is Form IV, which is _your_ style and was _your_ choice. Sprains are going to happen.”

“He lacks focus.”

“He’s the first Jedi in a millennium to take out a Sith and he did it while he thought you were dying. How much more focused did you expect him to be?”

“I _expected him_ to focus on his training, not to get distracted by petty relationships and one-night stands, not to waste his time on indulgences and base pleasures, not to use his looks, charms and body to lie, cheat and manipulate people.”

There was a long silence.

“Qui-Gon,” Tahl’s voice was quiet. “Obi-Wan didn’t do those things. Xanatos did those things.”

“I didn’t give him a chance to do those things.” Qui-Gon glared at the table, his mind’s eye seeing a past he hadn’t let happen.

“So what, you just gave him his S-training and then forbid him to use it?”

“I DIDN’T GIVE HIM HIS DAMN S-TRAINING!” Qui-Gon sudden shout earned them a new, unwilling audience.

Tahl sat utterly still, stunned. “And you didn’t let anyone else do it either. That’s why you’re under censure.”

Qui-Gon glanced around, but most of their inadvertent eavesdroppers were taking their leave. “I didn’t let it happen.”

“You didn’t give him the training he would need to pass his trials, and if you had sent him on, you’d be found out.” Tahl sighed. “You let your fear rule you and you let Obi-Wan pay the price.”

“They passed him anyway. Pardon me if I don’t believe he should have passed with his ‘lack of training.’”

“He bested a Sith and kept you alive until the medics arrived. I could see the Council overlooking a lapse on _your_ part if he was emotionally mature enough to manage _that_.” She sat up straight, held out her arm and pulled up her sleeve to reveal a sound recorder.

Qui-Gon choked on his slop. “Tahl, how could you, I—”

“Not a word.” She stood slowly, glaring in his general direction. “Your healer isn’t allowed to talk to me about you, but I’m sure as Hell allowed to talk to them. If you want me to stay in your life, we are going to talk to them and tell them _everything_ and you are going to tell the _truth_ and actually work on your healing.”

“And if I don’t?” It was not a challenge. It was barely a protest.

“Then I will leave you alone.”

Qui-Gon knew this was a promise, not a threat.

“Obi-Wan is an adult, despite the fact that you can’t accept that. You should resolve this with him, because frankly he deserved better from you. Anakin is still a child. You aren’t fit to be his master or anyone’s right now, but you could still be his ally, his mentor and his friend if you would just face your own demons. I know you wanted to be his master, Qui-Gon. I know you think this is your chance to get out of the red, to balance the books for Xanatos, by training someone who could potentially be the greatest Jedi ever. But you’re walking the same path as before, making the same mistakes, and willfully ignoring the same warning signs. Anakin needs a father figure who will love him, but he also needs a master who is not going to be impressed by his midi-chlorians, nor running his own agenda. You can’t be his master, Qui-Gon. And you can’t abandon him because you didn’t get your way.” She took a deep breath. “When is your next appointment with your mind healer?”

Qui-Gon looked down at the table. “Tomorrow. At fourteenth hour.” He knew when he’d been outmaneuvered. “Why did you do this?”

She reached out and carefully placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “To save you from yourself.” She squeezed gently. “I’ll be there.” She walked away, the perfect serene Jedi master, but Qui-Gon knew they would both spend many hours meditating before sleep would come.

* * *

“Obi-Wan, alright you are?”

Obi-Wan lifted his head from where he had been lying in the grass in a clearing in the Meadow Garden. Upon seeing Yoda’s concerned face, he sat up immediately to reassure the small master.

“I’m fine, Master Yoda. I had been attempting the Celestial Night meditation, but it wasn’t working and turned in to a Memory Walk instead. Just laying down.”

To his surprise, Master Yoda came closer and sat down on the grass beside him, looking up at the tiny, twinkling lights above. “Very pretty sky, yes, but Celestial Night needs real stars if you are Jedi. Your body knows the screen above isn’t real. Can’t feel fake stars in the Force. Immense size, vast distance, feel not on screen.”

“I wondered if that was the problem.”

“Hrmm, watch fireflies you can, if weather is cloudy. Or sky is not real.” Above, a false meteorite skittered across the screen. “Good memory on your walk?”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” Obi-Wan lay back down, his head on his folded robe, arms outstretched. “It was about you, actually.”

“Hmm?” Yoda lay down beside him, resting his head on Obi-Wan’s arm.

“I was remembering my first trip to the Star Map Room as an initiate. You were there to tell us stories about the stars and I laid down just like this in the dark and watched the stars slowly move all around us.”

“Hrmm, remember that I do. Said you could see more that way.”

Obi-Wan turned his head to face Yoda in the dim twilight. “You remember that, Master?” He smiled as he looked back up at the false sky above. “I didn’t think you would, you must do it several times a year.”

“Yes, remember it I do. To see the stars we all laid down. Asked you did which one was ours.”

“And you told us, and then you told us about the first Jedi and stories about different planets and about the constellations.”

“Yes, I did. And told story you did about ducks in the Water Garden. Stories for sharing I said. Wanted to share you did.”

“Oh, Force,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “I can just barely remember that. I apologize for the impertinence of my younger self.”

Yoda snorted. “Not bad story it was. Many Council meetings worse are.”

Obi-Wan laughed outright, wiping his eyes.

“Try Celestial Night again, if on safe planet you are. Heading to Inner Rim tomorrow you are, but send you to Alderaan later the Council may. Good place to try again if clear night is.” Yoda stared up at the star display, ears wiggling contentedly. “Good use you make of book?”

“Yes, Master Yoda. I’ve been finding it very helpful.”

Yoda poked him in the ribs with his gimer stick. “Using chapter six you are?”

Obi-Wan briefly choked on air. “Um, I’ve read through it.”

“Hrrm?”

“I, um, tried the first one.”

“Hmmm,” Yoda’s grunt sounded pleasantly surprised. “Good. Self-care you need. Mind and body. Not just one or other.” He settled a bit in the grass. “Try more you might in time. Can tell you have used other chapters. More attuned to Force you are now.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda. The exercises have helped me stay focused when I’ve been away from the Temple and other Jedi.”

Yoda reached up and squeezed the knight’s forearm. “Good to hear this is,” he sighed. “Long time since Celestial Night I have done. Too long on Coruscant I have been.”

“Would it work on the roof if you watched the airships?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Hrmm, depends. Too many droids on airships now, no people. But similar meditations are, watching birds, fish, falling leaves. Whatever you watch, needs life does. Or stars. Stars give life so feel them we can in the Force.”

“I see the problem now.” Obi-Wan sounded amused at his own folly.

“Mechanically assisted meditations there are. Random, repetitive patterns, comfort the mind can. Falling Water might adapt to screen.”

“I haven’t tried that one. No fountains on starship transports.”

“Master I knew, leaking pipe used. Detention cell she was in. Kept calm she did.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m imprisoned,” Obi-Wan replied in all seriousness.

“Long trip this will be for you. Miss you I will.”

“I’ll miss you too, Master Yoda.” They both looked up at the twinkling lights above. “It’s been very restorative to be back at the Temple, but it feels like it’s time to go back out. It feels like the Force is urging me to do so. But that could just be my own mind.”

“Feel it also I do. Things to learn for you, outside Temple are.” Yoda closed his eyes, listening to the Force. “Change ahead I sense for you.”

“Good or bad?”

Yoda shrugged. “Just change. Careful you must be, but Jedi you are. Careful you must be anyway. Coming change is. Be afraid you should not.”

“To be honest, I’ve had quite enough change for a while. I couldn’t have gotten through it without you, Master Yoda. I don’t know if I ever thanked you properly.”

“Thanked me, you did. Good knight you are becoming. Honor to Order. Honor to me. Honor to Qui-Gon, if get head out of ass he can. Lots of change you have had, but lots of growth too.” Yoda tapped his chest over his own heart. “Change coming inside. More growth I sense for you. Keep reading, keep trying exercises. Help you they can.”

“Yes, Master. I will.”

“Good.” They were both quiet for several minutes, enjoying each other’s company and Force presence. “Fake sky not bad, with friend to share with.”

Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. “I’m honored you consider me a friend, Master.”

“Not quite padawan mine, not quite student. Adult you are now. Fellow seeker of knowledge. But friend you have been for a while. Old soul you are.” Yoda gave him another poke. “Need more _young_ friends you do. Keep up with you better knights can.”

“I am trying to make more friends. Most of the knights my age have been knights for years, and most of the new knights are so . . . young.”

Yoda snorted. “Young and hormonal they are. Like teenagers again.”

“Force, yes.”

“Older you are. Looking for stability after storm. Intimidated do not be by knights your own age. Many missions you and Qui-Gon were on. Very experienced you are, even if hair still short is.”

“I was starting to think it would never grow out.”

“Enjoy while you can. When old you get, bald you may be too.”

Obi-Wan gasped in mock horror. “Is _this_ the change the Force warned you about?” They both laughed quietly as the garden grew dark.

Yoda wiped his own eyes in mirth. “No. Hair you will keep for a while I think. My first teacher bald was. Make him hats we children did. Watch stars like this we did also.”

“Your first teacher, Master?” Obi-Wan tried to imagine Yoda as a child.

“Hmm, yes. Jedi monk he was. Took care of children. Teach us of Force, how to get along. Like creche master he was. At puberty, orphans went to work farm, initiates sent to Temple. Prepared students for both fates Brother Bodan did, but love us all the same he did.”

Obi-Wan stilled at the name.

_“Brother Bodan, broad and tall_

_But ne’er a sabre did he wield._

_Friend to the young, the sick and small,_

_The Force alone his sword and shield.”_

“Know his story you do?” Yoda asked in surprise.

“Yes, Master, I did a report on him as an initiate. I read the entire poem when I was older.” He grew quiet, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry for the death of your friend, Master.”

“Read to the end you did? Most do not.”

“Yes, well, most texts give away the ending in the summary.” Obi-Wan frowned. “I didn’t know you began your training before you came to the Temple.” As Grandmaster, Yoda’s years of service and residence were tallied (and updated) on a plaque recording the Temple’s history of those who had held the position.

“Long time ago it was. Space travel more difficult then. Dangerous. Expensive. Jedi gathered children at monasteries, took in orphans, foster good will with locals. Took children to Temple every few years, when basic education done was. Became padawans at Temple. If not, studied to become monks and nuns.”

“You watched the stars with Brother Bodan?” Obi-Wan hoped he wasn’t stirring up painful memories.

“Yes, all children did. Let us play at dusk, then watch the stars. Simpler version of Celestial Night for young minds. Or tell us stories if cloudy or weather bad. Very small I was. If too many children still walking about, put me on his chest he would, so stepped on I would not be. If quiet, only awake us two, would put me on ground next to him, like we are now, so feel the Force in the planet I could. Strong he was in the Force. Great Jedi Master he could have been, but illness he had. Too strenuous life as knight would have been.”

“Having worked in the creche, I do find that hard to believe, Master. How many children were there?”

Yoda laughed, knowing well that Obi-Wan lacked a creche master’s rapport with younglings. There were different kinds of stamina.

“Read poem you did. _Four and twenty children_. Typical number this was, lived there many years I did, growing slower than the others. When raiders came, escaped with other children I did. Brother Bodan did not.” Yoda could feel Obi-Wan sending him support and sympathy through the Force. The young man moved, almost as if to offer a hug, but stopped, as if unsure the gesture would be welcome.

“Long time ago this was. Pleasant memories more numerous than sad ones. Watching stars. Making tea. Telling stories. Teach me he did, how to handle younglings.” Yoda was quiet a moment. “Jedi Knights returned to monastery, found his body. Sky burial was custom on that world, but murdered he had been, and dead a while. Darkness there was in that place. Leave him they would not. Pyre built for him. Brought back bones and ashes. Buried in Temple Gardens, and planted trees. Under the Hexadryad Grove his remains are.”

Obi-Wan smiled gently. “That’s another place you took us to tell stories. I’ve always had trouble sensing the Living Force, but that place always felt special. Comfortable.”

“Safe, like creche.”

“Yes.”

“Brother Bodan want us to mourn forever not. All the children remembered him there. Feel it still, you can.”

Obi-Wan grew serious. “Speaking of funerals, I’ve been having the same dream over and over, of seeing Master Jinn’s pyre.”

“Lighting it up, were you?” Another teasing poke. “Still alive was he?”

“No,” Obi-Wan answered, amused but still concerned. “He was quite dead in the dream.”

“Good. Turning to the Dark Side you are not.” Yoda settled down to listen. “Happens what does?”

“As I said, he was dead. In the dream, I know I’m on Naboo. The Queen and her retinue are there, as is the Council, and Anakin is there in padawan clothes.” He sighed. “I didn’t think it was unusual before, but I feel like I’ve dealt well with my issues from that mission. Should I be concerned that I’m still having it?”

“Discuss with Vygor you have?”

“Yes, Master. He is equally baffled.”

“Hmm,” Yoda rolled up to a sitting position and held out his clawed hand. “Show me this dream.”

Obi-Wan also sat up and lowered his head to allow Yoda to touch his forehead, then thinned his mental shields enough to allow the master to see his memory of the dream.

“Hmm,” Yoda spoke after several minutes. “Psychological the problem is not.” He withdrew his hand and opened his eyes. “Tell me, when wake up from this dream, panic you feel? Feel Force ripples do you upon waking?”

Obi-Wan considered the question. “I did feel panic the first few times I had it and woke up half-convinced Master Jinn had died on Naboo, especially before he woke in the Healer’s Ward. But I’ve had it since then and have been aware he is alive.” He frowned, puzzling over the second question. “I have felt movement in the Force after having this dream, at least some of the time, but that’s true of many dreams I’ve had.”

Yoda narrowed his eyes, analyzing his answer. “Lucid dreaming you are, but this dream you keep having.”

“Yes, Master. It’s not disruptive anymore, just odd. Usually repetitive dreams end by now, especially after the trauma is dealt with.”

“Conversation in dream you hear, between Windu and I. Always in dream this is?”

“Mostly, unless I wake up before it’s over.”

“Had this conversation we did, on Naboo. At Qui-Gon’s bedside it was, not pyre. There you were not.” It was not a question. Obi-Wan looked mystified.

“Vision this is. Telling you something the Force is.”

The young knight looked doubtful; the fact that he trusted Master Yoda’s judgement seemed to be his only reason to entertain the idea. “I thought Force visions were more . . . dramatic? And rare? This is a recurring dream. I’ve had those before. Sometimes they change over time, sometimes they are always the same, but eventually they fade if I deal with my emotions.”

“Tell you Master Jinn did, to focus on moment, not dreams?”

“Yes, Master. He considered them a distraction.”

Yoda’s ears turned down in displeasure. “Balance needed, yes. Distracting they can be but ignore dreams a Jedi should not. Talk to you Unifying Force does, but quietly.” He reached out to poke Obi-Wan in the chest. “Frequently speaking, rare not.”

The young man still looked doubtful. “And ripples in the Force indicate this?” He shook his head. “I must be mistaken, Master Yoda. Force ripples—”

“Happen a lot when wake from dreams you do.”

“Yes.”

“Lived in my home you did. Ripples in Force while dreaming you are, not just waking.” Yoda patted his knee. “Much going on there was. Mention it then I did not.”

“Master,” Obi-Wan seemed to find the whole idea incredulous. “I’m an adult. I’ve seen my own medical records. I know my midi-chlorian count is low for a Jedi, much less one who worked toward knighthood.”

Yoda’s eyes narrowed. “Told you this, Qui-Gon did? Or creche masters?”

“No, but it finally made sense why I was not selected by a master for so long, and why I was so old when I was knighted. I know I’m not particularly strong in the Force, Master, though the meditations are helping.”

Yoda pushed the end of his gimer stick directly into the young knight’s chest. “Grandmaster of Temple I am. Tell me who is strong in the Force you will not.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head in contrition, stunned by the reprimand, but Yoda stepped closer, reaching out to lift his chin and make him look into his eyes. “Train Jedi nearly 800 years I have. Many, many students I have had. Blood tests I give to decide who to train?”

“No, Master?”

“Brother Bodan test my blood did he before decide to train me as Jedi?” Yoda knew Obi-Wan knew Jedi history.

“No, Master. The tests hadn’t been developed yet.”

“Look into your medical records I have also. Knew I did that training issue you had. Didn’t want Council getting hung up on twenty-five-year old blood tests when reviewing your files. Younger Councilors read too much into blood. More complicated it is.”

“Master?” Obi-Wan was both curious and skeptical.

“Stable your midi-chlorian count is not. Different readings at different ages you have had.”

“There’s variation, Master, but they were all low.”

“Not all. Remember when Zorran Fever you had?”

“Not well. I was delirious for four days and bedridden for the next week. Master Jinn was very worried.”

“Not at Temple you were, bring you home Qui-Gon could not. Treated by non-Jedi healers you were. Midi-chlorian count much higher when fighting virus you were. Difference so great, healers thought lysing your cells were.”

“What would cause that?” Everything Obi-Wan had learned about the biology of midi-chlorians had indicated that counts were fairly stable throughout life but might go _down_ during severe illness.

“Tested on Naboo you were also, when treated after fight with Sith. Higher it was then too.”

“They told me I was fine. Just bruises, strains and dehydration.”

“Had your regular numbers they did not. Send this Temple healers do not unless medically necessity is.” Yoda sighed. “Had your DNA tested I did. Variation you have. Common to your people it is. Low midi-chlorian count in blood, correspond it does not to count in other tissues, like brain. Adapted your people are to live with lower counts. Lived under Sith rule your ethnic group did, long ago. Before blood tests, more Jedi came from your people. Blood count correlate with abilities, yours does not.”

Obi-Wan puzzled over this new information. He did know that ancient Sith had ravaged some populations of Force users, sometimes for recruitment, but mostly to eliminate rivals, and that lower average midi-chlorian counts could be seen in their descendants, even a thousand years later, but he had always assumed it was because those with the highest counts had been killed off and not passed on their genes.

“Are you saying that there are some Force users that have lower midi-chlorian blood counts than they should?”

Yoda nodded. “Yes, correct that is.”

“But back then, the Sith didn’t use midi-chlorian counts to screen people any more than the Jedi did. How is that a survival advantage?”

“Clever boy you are. Other advantage there is. Harder to sense in the Force such persons can be. Easier it is to mask Force presence.” Yoda leaned closer. “Easier to hide from Sith. Important this may be now that Sith have returned.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, considering this new information. “Should you be telling me this, Master?”

“For most Jedi, probably not, but killed Sith you have. Target you may be. Enhance this you might try. Screening Jedi the healers are for gene variation. Only Knight you are with it so far. One older master, several Jedi in Service Corp, but very successful they are, knights they might have been. Meet with you the Council may.” Yoda leaned in conspiratorially. “Try to look surprised you will.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Much more than you usually do.”

“Told you I did, intimidated do not be by peers. Strong enough you are in the Force, training issues your fault are not. Send you more reading I will, help you develop dream interpretation it can. When come back you do, to Seer we can go. Keep dream journal for now. More training you need to reach full potential.” Yoda stretched, cracking his small back. “Glad I am that training Skywalker you are not. Much darkness there is in your dream, much uncertainty.”

“I agree, I would have been a poor master to any padawan, especially if I was grieving.”

“Inexperienced you would be, but awful not. More concern for you. If padawan you had, reach _your_ potential you could not. Time to grow it is for you.” Yoda got to his feet and Obi-Wan followed suit. “Late it is. Send us to bed Brother Bodan would. Naughty children to stay out so late under fake sky.”

Obi-Wan bowed in reverence. “Thank you for the gift of your wise counsel, Master.” He straightened. “Do you want a lift to the Masters’ Tower?” He wasn’t Yoda’s _de facto_ padawan anymore, but he knew the walk would be much longer for the smaller master than it would be for him.

“Yes,” Yoda raised his arms and Obi-Wan picked him up and let him settle on his shoulder. “Spoil me you do.”

The young knight laughed. “That’s what friends are for, Master.”

“Come back safe you will,” the master commanded.

“Yes, Master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to **vorpalsward**. Vygor is just a handshaking kind of Jedi. Hope everyone is continuing to enjoy the fic. I'm going to try to update every weekend while I finish the last chapter.


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission to Alderaan, young knights spread their wings, and Master Qui-Gon visits with his youngest fan and discovers not all is well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and song lyrics from _Brave_ by Sara Bareilles.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4
> 
> I first became involved in this fandom soon after _The Phantom Menace_ came out, but I stopped writing for a while, and when I finally got into AO3, I was writing MCU instead. Having been out of the fandom so long, I sometimes don't remember the details, particularly in fanon. As such, I know _someone else_ came up with referring to Bail Antilles and Bail Organa as 'Big Bail' and 'Little Bail,' and if could remember who you were I would totally credit you with it, but I can't. 
> 
> I have not read any of the source material in regards to Bail's extended family, and have only taken their names (from Wookiepedia) and the fact that Leia's aunts would dress her and style her hair in elaborate ways. I don't think I ever found the exact relationship between Bail Organa and Bail Antilles so I made a decision and ran with it. 
> 
> No warnings for this chapter.

_Nothing’s gonna hurt you the way that words do_ _  
When they settle ‘neath your skin.  
Kept on the inside and no sunlight  
Sometimes a shadow wins,  
But I wonder what would happen if you  
Say what you wanna say  
And let the words fall out  
Honestly, I wanna see you be brave_.

\-- Sara Bareilles, Jack Antonoff, “Brave”

“Why did they send us here? It’s so peaceful.”

Walking through the clean, modern spaceport, Quinlan Vos was just as mystified as Kressa. “Beats me, unless they plan to torture us with good manners and finger sandwiches.”

“We’ve been here for five minutes; shouldn’t someone be shooting at us by now?” They passed by a carved marble fountain, reminiscent of the wealthiest levels of Coruscant and not the shipping hubs they usually arrived in. Alderaan’s biggest export seemed to be culture.

“Did the Council tell us where we’re supposed to go to get to this conference?” They turned a corner to see a long line of uniformed and liveried people holding signs in Basic and several other common languages.

“I’m going to guess we’re probably supposed to go with those guys whose sign says _Jedi Diplomats_.”

“Smartass.” Quinlan followed along as Kressa walked up to the two men who seemed to be in charge of their transport.

“Hello,” Kressa tipped back her hood and smiled. “I’m Knight Carlin and this is Knight Vos. We’ve been sent by the Jedi Council to assist with the Aldera Biennial Summit.”

The two men looked at them skeptically. The older blond man seemed resigned and continued to hold the sign, while his younger co-worker, dark-haired, tan and wearing smoked glasses, reached out to shake their hands. Kressa clasped his hand with enthusiasm, sparing Quinlan the duty.

“Welcome to Alderaan, Good Jedi. I am Prestor, and we will take you to your accommodations at the palace. However, I’m afraid we’re still waiting on a third Jedi. I take it they did not arrive with you?”

Kressa smiled brightly. “We don’t know much more than you do. The Council did inform us they would be sending in a third knight to assist, but they didn’t tell us who to expect.”

“They probably didn’t know who they were sending at the time,” Quinlan added. “That Trade Federation mess caused a lot of smoldering fires to flare up. Our diplomats have been busy.”

Prestor looked a bit disappointed when they had mentioned a third knight, but before he could answer, the blond man clicked his tongue and nodded at the crowd of approaching travelers behind them. Kressa and Quinlan turned to see a figure approaching in the crowd, cloaked in Jedi brown. Whoever it was paused briefly, then seemed to spot them and headed to them directly. Neither Quinlan nor Kressa could identify the stranger, but the Force presence did not indicate an imposter (and yes, that _had_ happened before).

The Mystery Jedi stopped before them and bowed politely before standing up straight and tipping back their hood.

“Obi-Wan!”

It took Quinlan and Kressa a moment to realize it was Prestor who had spoken and not each other.

“Prestor,” Obi-Wan grinned. “It’s good to see you again.”

“ _You’re_ the knight we were waiting on?” The young man was visibly relieved, though the reasons remained unclear.

“I just received the assignment two days ago when I finished up some negotiations on Kashyyk. I was very pleased to hear my next assignment was on a world where I was at least within the range of adult height.”

Prestor clapped a hand on Kenobi’s shoulder, acting as if a great weight had been lifted from his own. “Let’s get back to the palace.” He suddenly seemed to remember he had three Jedi to deal with. “Do any of you have additional luggage to pick up?”

Quinlan inadvertently snorted at the idea of luggage.

“We travel light,” Kressa explained.

“It’s very possible the Council may have sent ahead supplies or intel to our accommodations at the palace.”

Kressa shot Quinlan a look, wondering why Obi-Wan seemed so much better informed than they were.

“Not so far as I know,” Prestor replied. “But the staff would know to deliver it to your rooms.” He turned to the blond man. “Shall we go?”

The elder seemed mystified as to why Prestor’s mood had so improved. “Yes.” He tucked his sign under his arm and held out the other, offering to carry a bag. All three Jedi politely refused, and they headed out, the blond man rapidly walking ahead.

“Tobi is going ahead to bring the car around,” Prestor explained as they came to a stop just short of the doors. He looked them over. “Do you know each other well? Have you worked together before?”

“Kressa and I have been working together for about a year, but never in the Core Worlds.” Quinlan gestured to Obi-Wan. “Knight Kenobi is one of our neighbors at the Temple, but we’ve never worked together before.”

“Interesting mix,” Prestor mused as the ground car pulled up and he stepped forward to open the rear door for them.

Quinlan put his hand on the door frame as he entered the large ground car, surreptitiously getting a read on it. All he could sense was a lot of opulent passengers, apparently the car was part of a motor pool as opposed to assigned to a specific person. He slid all the way in, then, feeling rebellious, sat in the backward-facing middle row. Kressa and Obi-Wan soon followed, each sitting in the back row, facing front. Prestor closed the door and then got into the front seat in the separate driver’s compartment.

“How do you know him?” Kressa asked as soon as the car started moving. “Or how does he know you?”

“Master Jinn ran the Biennial Summit several times when I was his padawan. I’ve been to this before.”

“Oh, thank the Force,” Kressa leaned back and sighed. “You’ll have to tell us what we’re supposed to do to be polite. I think the Council just expected us to know, and Quin and I are more used to pirates and smugglers, not politicians and princesses.” She froze. “Do I need to wear a dress?”

Quin snorted again.

“If you choose not to wear your Jedi robes to an official function, gowns or suits and capes are appropriate. Looking neat and clean goes without saying.” Obi-Wan gestured to the partition that Prestor was sitting behind. “And if he’s wearing the dark glasses and civilian clothing, you call him ‘Prestor.’”

“What else would I call him?” Kressa asked, just as the car drew to a halt under a bridge.

Quinlan tensed, wondering if this was an ambush. Obi-Wan merely looked expectant as the panel between the driving compartment and the passenger compartment rolled down. Prestor, having shed his glasses, hat and braided jacket, grinned at Obi-Wan over the partition.

“Should my ears be burning?”

“Just your middle ear, since we’re only using your middle name.”

“The Council didn’t tell us who they were sending either, so I guess the jig is up.” To Quinlan and Kressa’s surprise, Prestor climbed through the narrow opening and half-fell into the empty seat across from Obi-Wan, then tapped the button to close them off again. The car resumed its journey.

“My apologies for the subterfuge, Good Jedi. I’m afraid my elders insisted I scout ahead to see what unknown diplomats the Council had sent.”

“The Council knows Her Majesty would have preferred Master Jinn return to mediate, but he is currently unable to work in the field for medical reasons, Your Highness.”

Kressa boggled slightly, but Quinlan merely grinned, thankful Obi-Wan had thrown them a bone. Now that the other knight had mentioned it, he did recall at least one of the young royals or nobles had a middle name of Prestor.

Prestor briefly shot him a sour look. “You know you don’t need to stand on ceremony with _me_ , at least outside of well, ceremonies, _Knight_ Kenobi.” His teasing smile seemed genuine, as if he was probably aware Obi-Wan was trying to get his colleagues up to speed. “When did this happen? Is this why your hair no longer looks like a Corellian kiwi?”

“About seven months ago. Master Yoda had me get a haircut right before the ceremony, so it’s taken even longer to grow out.”

Kress giggled, nodding knowingly.

“They make everyone do that,” Quinlan explained. “It’s one of the few times in life that Jedi take official portraits.”

“Lucky you,” Prestor smiled back. “I’ve had to sit for way too many of those, and the painted ones are even worse.” He turned back to Obi-Wan. “Be warned, with all that hair, my sister is going to be all over you.”

“Which one?” Obi-Wan looked slightly alarmed.

“Celly, she was rather despondent when she learned that Master Jinn and his elegant locks would not be joining us this year. Rouge likes you well enough but is indifferent to your hair and Tia still thinks you’re too serious and scary.”

The penny dropped. With the mention of his sisters, the other two knights were able to correctly identify their companion as Prince Bail Prestor Organa, heir to the monarchy of Alderaan. Kressa blushed slightly.

“Well, I still don’t have enough hair to pull off the traditional Alderaanian chignons. She may have to live with disappointment.”

Bail laughed outright. “No one does.” He turned to Kressa and Quinlan. “Did you hear that story?”

They shook their heads.

“Grandmother was making a fuss over Jedi robes not being formal enough for the conference, so Master Jinn acquiesced to formal wear, but he let my sisters do his hair.” He spread his hands as if holding a dinner plate by the edges. “Giant hair buns on both sides of his head, a perfect replica of the formal _PRINCESS_ hairdo.” Bail laughed harder at the memory. “Master Jinn conducted the entire day’s session like that. When he showed up in his regular Jedi robes the next day, Grandmother didn’t say a word.”

“And that is why you _don’t_ have to wear a gown if you don’t want to,” Obi-Wan explained to Kressa.

“Wait a minute,” Quinlan looked from Obi-Wan to Bail and back again, suspicious. “If his sisters did up Master Jinn’s hair, what did they do to you?”

Bail snickered.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “There may have been eyeliner involved.”

Bail laughed harder. “ _Glitter_ eyeliner.”

“Please tell me you got pictures of that!” Kressa squealed.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied as Bail answered “Yes.”

“As interesting as this little excursion into gender stereotypes has been, is there anything we should know about the Summit going in?”

“Ah, yes. Business.” Bail made a face, but quickly grew serious, knowing the other two knights were unfamiliar with the assignment. “The Biennial Aldera Summit is held to foster relations between Core Worlds and either new groups entering the Republic or groups considering entry. Basically, they find a small, simmering diplomatic issue and invite the opposing parties to visit Alderaan and discuss their differences amongst beautiful scenery and quality wine. The new Republic members get to make diplomatic connections, Alderaan gets to spread the word about tourism, and the Jedi get insight into these new members without being shot at.”

“Most of the time,” Obi-Wan added.

“Mostly,” Bail agreed. “It generally helps if you openly practice with your lightsabers. Makes any potential anarchists think twice.”

“So noted.”

Bail went on to explain the current dispute as he understood it while the ground car began the arduous journey up into the mountains. One of the disputing parties were from a planet Quinlan and Kressa had worked on before, so they felt somewhat justified in being there.

As they drew near, the Alderaanian palace was a sight to behold, nestled amongst the mountains and in harmony with nature. Quinlan and Kressa wondered what they had done right to deserve pulling _this_ mission. Bail Organa personally escorted them to a three-bedroom suite, fully equipped with large beds, a small dining area and a double refresher. A large bowl of fruit and a chiller stocked with juice and water had been provided, and a datapad listing the available amenities and important events sat waiting on the table. Kressa looked delighted. Quinlan looked as if he had entered an alternate universe and wasn’t sure how to get back. Obi-Wan looked as if he wasn’t the least bit surprised.

They had barely figured out sleeping arrangements, hung up their clothes, and washed their faces before there was a knock on the door. Quinlan checked to make sure no one was lounging about half-dressed, then opened the door. Three little girls stood in the hall in brightly colored gowns, carrying flowers. Each one had an enormous hair bun over each ear.

“Welcome to Alderaan, Noble Jedi.” The middle girl straightened up and Quinlan realized she was actually an adult but had been in a deep curtsy when he had opened the door. The other two straightened to reveal an older teen and a young girl just entering puberty. The eldest continued. “We have come to welcome you to our world and our home, and to assist you in dressing properly for the evening’s state dinner.”

Quinlan blinked at them, speechless.

“He’s already got make up on,” the smallest whispered to her sisters. All three stared up at him and his facial tattoos, clearly unsure what to do here.

Quinlan knew when he was in over his head, and looked over his shoulder, suddenly desperate. “Obi-Wan!”

The three princesses looked at each other comically, then tried to look around Vos’s bulk just as Obi-Wan popped out of his sleeping room, hand on the hilt of his saber in alarm at Quinlan’s tone. He stopped short as he caught sight of several hair buns in the doorway.

“Help!” Quinlan mouthed.

“Obi-Wan!” the middle sister shrieked. “You have hair!”

Obi-Wan shot Vos a look that was both understanding and amused, then bowed to the three princesses. “Your Highnesses, it is a pleasure to see you all again.”

At Obi-Wan’s nod, Quinlan stepped aside to let them in, then quietly slipped to the ‘fresher to make sure Kressa knew to put on a bathrobe if she was changing.

“Obi-Wan, Bail didn’t tell us you were coming!” the eldest looked pleased.

“No, he told Mother, Father and Grandmother it was three knights and only two had worked together before.” The middle one seemed amused by her brother’s report, as if it were a clever joke. The smallest said nothing, just looked about with wide eyes.

“Hmm, I suppose your brother was a bit embarrassed when her Majesty wrote to the Jedi Council to complain about Master Jinn’s unavailability and her request of ‘masters of suitable experience and decorum’ to replace him?”

The three girls giggled knowingly. Overhearing, Quinlan suddenly had no doubt why _he_ had been sent. It did not do well to annoy the Jedi Council.

The eldest laughed heartily. “Oh my, yes. Did he tell you?”

“Of course not,” Obi-Wan scoffed. “Your brother is a model of diplomacy and discretion.”

“So how did you know?” the middle sister asked.

“Yeah, Obi-Wan,” Quinlan crossed his arms over his chest. He was starting to feel a little under-informed here. “How _did_ you know?” To his surprise, Obi-Wan laughed out loud.

“I was with Master Yoda when he read her Majesty’s letter.” The three princesses looked suitably horrified. “Mind you, this was many months ago, and I hadn’t been knighted yet, so I certainly didn’t think _I’d_ be coming here, nor did Master Yoda, who was quite put out by the whole thing.”

“Of course,” the eldest nodded. “Bail tried to convince her not to send it.”

“He read it out loud?” Quinlan asked, equally horrified at the idea of the tiny green master getting ticked off enough to divulge diplomatic intelligence to an uninvolved Padawan.

“It took three cups of tea and nut butter toast to calm him down.” Obi-Wan nodded at the girls. “It’s not her Majesty’s fault. He was already upset that Master Jinn was still recovering.”

“Is Master Jinn feeling better?” the smallest sister asked quietly.

“I don’t know how he is feeling right now,” Obi-Wan tried to keep his voice gentle. “I haven’t seen him or spoken to him in a long time. But the last I heard, he was getting stronger and healthier, and he might be healthy enough to run the next summit.”

The three girls looked relieved. “We won’t tell Mother,” the eldest said. “She’ll just start pestering him.”

“That may be for the best,” Obi-Wan agreed.

At that moment, Kressa finally came out of the refresher, stopping dead as she caught sight of the three princesses, who turned to her, staring with varying degrees of delight.

“A _girl_ Jedi!” the youngest exclaimed, clasping her hands.

“With hair!” the middle sister practically jumped up and down.

The eldest looked at Kressa, who stared back like a nerf mesmerized by the headlights of an approaching speeder. “Grab the cart, girls!” The two youngest sped for the hallway and returned with a cart loaded down with beauty supplies. Kressa paled.

“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan assured her. “You’re allowed to say no.”

When the three Jedi entered the dining hall, Bail had to fake a cough to keep from laughing out loud. Obi-Wan had gotten off easy, with only a little styling product in his hair, and a flower where his lapel would have been. Knight Vos was sporting a smoky eyeliner (the non-glitter kind) and it looked as if eyeshadow had been applied to his face to highlight his tattoos. Knight Carlin had gotten the royal treatment: hair ornaments and extensions, dramatic eye makeup, foundation, nails, the works. Her hair had also been bedecked in flowers and her robes had been pinned to look like an Alderaanian-style cape. She looked so shell-shocked by the whole thing that Bail made a mental note to ask her to dance later, just so he could make sure she was all right.

Overall, the banquet and subsequent dancing went well. Obi-Wan had given his fellow knights a crash course in Core World Diplomacy as he had remembered it from the first time he had attended this summit: 1) good dining manners, those are not drinking glasses, 2) when in doubt, bow, even though you are not a subject, everyone expects the gesture of humility from Jedi, 3) do not sleep with Bail’s sisters (or his cousins), 4) do not sleep with Bail, and if you do, don’t get caught and use protection, 5) do not get arrested, 6) do not get arrested in the Red Light District, yes Aldera has one and it’s very cold because we are up in the mountains, 7) do not resist arrest if you are arrested, but you can ask to see credentials, 8) do not show off your lightsaber (whether that is a euphemism or not), and 9) DO NOT sleep with Bail’s sisters. (Apparently, there had been several very interested padawans that year. In later years, Master Jinn had condensed it down to ‘use the correct fork, dance at least once with somebody and don’t do anything stupid). Quinlan was grateful for the more detailed version. Kressa wondered how much wiggle room there was on #4.

As the evening was drawing to a close (fairly early since the Summit was scheduled to begin first thing in the morning), Bail found his old Summit buddy making small talk with delegates from both sides of the simmering dispute. His mother was busy dancing with Knight Vos, while his father was dancing with Knight Carlin, and both knights were probably being grilled.

Obi-Wan, having already done his requisite dance with all three of Bail’s sisters, looked relieved that the party was winding down. “Have I done anything to displease Her Majesty?” he asked when Bail handed him some ice water in a fancy glass, well aware that Obi-Wan _could_ drink but preferred not to the night before the summit.

“No,” Bail’s voice was slightly pained, but his expression was the requisite slightly bored. “She didn’t recognize you.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“She hasn’t bothered learning your name the previous three times you were here. Mother is a good ruler, but she forgets sometimes to pay attention to the young people, assuming they stay that way forever. She didn’t realize Master Jinn made it all look easy because he had you assisting him.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Padawans serve without being ‘seen’ on many worlds. I imagine I didn’t seem to change much with the traditional clothes and hair.”

“Rouge and I were trying to decide if we should remind her you’ve met before and risk her only remembering the eyeliner. Nice balance between the three of you, by the way.”

“Let’s not. If I do poorly, it won’t be a trial for Master Jinn if he returns later. As for Quin and Kressa, they were very cooperative when I explained that your father appreciates the kindness to his daughters.”

“He does. Knight Vos looks as if he got into the spirit of it.”

“He really did, they tried several different styles. I think they had more fun comparing hair care techniques, regardless that he styled his own dreadlocks. Kressa has never been so dolled up. I think she enjoyed it, but still isn’t sure how to handle it.”

“How are you handling it?”

“It’s very different not being the invisible padawan.” He leaned closer, whispering. “It may be my imagination, but . . . people seem to be more flirtatious this year.”

Bail snorted into his glass. “You’re a knight now. You aren’t answering to a glowering master sending out vibes that you are ‘off limits.’”

Obi-Wan looked startled. “Did he really give that impression?”

“Oh, heck yes,” Bail slapped him on the back. “That’s why half of my cousins aren’t hitting on you. He might come back.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan sounded as if this were all news to him.

“Celly said you haven’t seen him in a while.”

“We had a falling out. _Not_ related to my social life or lack thereof. Fundamental disagreement. Another master ended up sponsoring me for my trials.”

“That sounds . . . bad.”

“It was. It’s over. I’m moving on. But it’s unlikely that Master Jinn will be willing to work with me again in the future.”

“Even if the Council demands it?” It was unspoken that by Council Bail really meant his mother.

“They won’t. They do not feel it is in my best interests and right now I agree.”

“Huh,” Bail looked his friend over. “Do you want to get a stronger drink and talk about it?” He looked hopeful to have an excuse to leave early.

Obi-Wan smiled politely as Celly swung by in the arms of a diplomat who mere months ago was a professional gambler who had won a governorship in a sabacc game and had no idea how he had ended up at this party. The ribbons in her hair had come loose and followed her like comet tails.

“Not tonight. I have another hour to wait in the event your mother notices I exist. But another night, yes, I would love to catch up and hear how you are all doing.” The song had ended, and Tia was smiling shyly as Quinlan Vos asked her to dance. “Tia really thinks I’m scary?”

Bail shrugged. “You willingly wore hair gel and let her dress up Knight Carlin. And you aren’t running around at Master Jinn’s beck and call. And Celly says you actually laughed. Plus she’s hit puberty now. You might have to be a little scary when she realizes all three of you Jedi are human too, not just Master Jinn.”

“He was better with children than I am.”

“Exactly. She’s not a kid anymore.”

Obi-Wan looked concerned. “Maybe I shouldn’t stick around.”

Rouge suddenly appeared beside him and dragged him onto the dance floor. “Maybe you shouldn’t be a stick in the mud!”

Obi-Wan cast an apologetic glance back and caught Bail laughing at the pair of them as they spun away to the music.

All in all, it was much better than Kashyyk.

* * *

“Master Qui-Gon! You’re back!” Anakin Skywalker broke away from the group of initiates who were puzzling over mineral samples, feeling which stones spoke to them for future lightsaber crystals, and ran up to the master in question, stopping short as he remembered Master Jinn had been injured and might not enjoy a hug.

Qui-Gon stopped and greeted the boy, smiling gently. “It’s good to see you too, Anakin. Have you been doing well in your classes?”

The boy shrugged. His hair still hadn’t grown out of the padawan cut, and someone had trimmed the longer piece he had left to start the padawan braid, but otherwise he looked the same, perhaps he had even put on a little healthy weight and was a bit taller.

“They are teaching me lots of stuff. Reading, math, writing.” He wrinkled his nose. “They say I need to take the boring stuff before I can take the interesting stuff, like building lightsabers and how to fight. But I built a pod racer and a droid already. How hard do they think a lightsaber is to build?”

Qui-Gon looked up at the exasperated instructor and with her tacit approval, quietly drew the boy to sit with him on a bench. “More difficult that you would think, Anakin. Some parts are less difficult, we don’t make you start from nothing. There are parts that come ready-made, like your pod-engines and only need to be tweaked or configured. Other parts must be found or shaped and you will need to deeply understand how they can work together without being able to test them first. You have to let the Force, the midi-chlorians speak to you to know what to do. And there are many lessons to learn before you can do that well.”

“Can’t I just get a droid to read stuff to me? Maybe on high speed?”

“Are you having trouble reading?”

“Not really,” Anakin sulked. “They gave me tests and said I can read okay, but I need to practice so I can read more and bigger books. But those are story books or math books. If I have to read, I want to read about building things. And piloting.”

Qui-Gon gave him a half-smile. “Do you know how much math you need to know to be an engineer?”

“No.”

“Or to build a lightsaber that won’t explode the first time you turn it on?”

“They can _explode_?”

“Yes. Lightsabers are very powerful, and a big responsibility. They can be used to defend people. They can also maim and kill, and if we do not train and educate ourselves, the person they hurt may be us.” He gestured toward the books on the table in the center of the workshop next door where knights, padawans and masters came to work on their weapons.

“Do you see how much there is to know about lightsabers? That big one is just the basics.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as he finally noticed how thick the book was. “The basics? The easy stuff?”

“No, the fundamental things.” When it was clear Anakin didn’t understand, he tried again. “When you tried to fix your droid, how did you know how long his arms and legs should be, or how big his hardware compartment needed to be to house his motion and language systems? How did you know what programs to give him or what sensors to fit him with?”

Anakin frowned. “I didn’t. He came with legs and arms, and I replaced his busted parts with ones that worked, as close as I could get.”

“Hmm, what happened if a part didn’t work?”

“I took it out and waited until I had something else to try.”

“Did you know why the parts that didn’t work failed?”

“Well, sometimes, but mostly they just didn’t.”

“And for repairing a droid, that’s enough. You learn what works and what doesn’t work, and it can help you make future repairs. But that’s very different from designing and building something not only from scratch, but something that can blow up if you do it wrong.”

Anakin peered at Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. “Is every Jedi’s lightsaber different?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon took his off his belt to show the child, being sure it was set to a safe mode. “They all have features in common, but each is unique to the person who builds it and wields it. Each Jedi has to build the best lightsaber to suit their needs. No one can do it for you.”

Anakin looked at the thick Lightsaber Handbook warily. “There was a copy of that book in my old room, but it had lots of doodles and scribbles in it. And a _lot_ of big words and pictures I didn’t understand.”

“You mean your room in my quarters?”

The boy nodded.

“Ah, you must mean Obi-Wan’s copy of the book. Yes, he would put notes in when he learned something new or had to do a calculation so he would know what he had done if he had to make a modification or repair.”

“He read that whole book?” Anakin looked as if he didn’t quite believe it.

“More than once, and I’ve read it several times myself. And read other books or reread certain sections. There are many books about lightsabers but that big one is the one to start with.”

“Obi-Wan said stuff like that but he made a new lightsaber while you were with the healers, so I didn’t think it was really that hard.”

“He made a relatively simple lightsaber so he could finish it before his trials. Those still take time and one must be careful.”

“ _His_ didn’t blow up.” Anakin’s tone seemed to imply Obi-Wan wasn’t all that mechanically inclined.

“It’s not the first one he’s ever built or redesigned.”

“He says he’s making a new one.” Anakin looked back at the mineral room. “He spent a lot of time feeling the crystals, but the bigger ones.”

 _Already?_ Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, they will let you feel the saber crystals with the Force when it’s time to build your first lightsaber. They are valuable and rare, which is why they have you practice with the sample stones.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and for a moment Qui-Gon was painfully reminded of Xanatos. “Won’t the Force just tell me which one is right then?”

“Not if you don’t learn how to listen.” Carefully he held up his own saber hilt to Anakin’s inspection. “I’ve used these crystals for decades. What do they tell you?”

Anakin let his hand hover over the hilt, frowning. “There’s more than one?”

Qui-Gon suppressed a smile. “Yes, it’s a multi-crystal saber. It produces a more powerful weapon but is more difficult to design and put together. Your first few sabers will be single crystal, but eventually, when you are ready, you too can build a multi-crystal blade.”

“When I’m a padawan for real?”

Qui-Gon held in a wince. “Probably not before you’re a knight. You will need the experience of building several sabers and will need to learn how the crystals work together. And you’ll want to wait until your hands, arms and legs stop growing so you’ll know how long you’ll want the blade to be.”

“Oh,” Anakin’s face cleared as if suddenly what he had seen made more sense. “Is that why Obi-Wan kept staring at different groups of stones and moving them around? To see how they would work together?”

Qui-Gon blinked in surprise. “Probably.” _Why the hell would Obi-Wan need a multi-crystal blade? He was barely a knight!_ “It takes a lot of time and trial and error to find a set with good harmony.”

Ani nodded. “That’s what he said, but it didn’t make sense. I guess because he didn’t find it yet.” He looked up at Qui-Gon and grinned. “Your crystals sing.”

“Yes, they do.” He put his saber back on his belt and took the boy’s hand. “Why don’t we find out which stones sing for you?”

Anakin grinned. “Okay.” Together they walked through the displays of stones, feeling the different kinds and how they resonated with the Force. His instructor flashed Qui-Gon a grateful look as the boy finally engaged with the lesson. Qui-Gon guessed he shouldn’t be surprised that after all the radical changes and shocks, the boy had embraced his distrust of other’s judgment in favor of his own the most. He tried not to feel bitter that Tahl was right, that Anakin could very well be dangerous, though at this age mostly to himself.

They made their rounds through the minerals without Anakin developing any real preference (which was normal for his age), and correctly identifying the green gems Qui-Gon used in his saber. He also reported that Obi-Wan had been looking at various types of blue stones and had consulted the Crystal Master but hadn’t yet found what he was looking for while Ani was there.

They stayed until after Anakin’s class had returned to the initiate dorms, catching up on how the boy had been settling into the Temple and how far along Master Jinn was in his recovery. Still enjoying their visit and encouraged by both Tahl and his damn therapist to keep up his relationship with the boy, Qui-Gon treated them both to dinner at one of the Temple’s small cafes which offered a better atmosphere for their conversation than did the commissary.

“Are you better now, Master Qui-Gon?” Anakin peeked at Qui-Gon’s chest, trying to see if there were still bandages behind his tunics.

“I’m better than when I left, but I still have a long way to go.” He pulled back his collar to reveal a padded brace. “It’s not going to bleed again, but I still need to protect it while it continues to heal, and I build up muscle.”

“The healers say I need to build up muscle too, before I can fight with the other initiates.”

“Before you can _spar_ with the other initiates,” Qui-Gon corrected. “It’s not a battle.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose again. “The healers make me drink protein shakes. And lots of water.”

Qui-Gon leaned down, looking him in the eye. “They make me do that too. But that’s what bodies need to heal and grow.” Qui-Gon got the distinct impression Anakin was going through a list of everything he felt concerned about and making sure it was okay with someone he trusted.

“They make me go talk to a healer about my feelings every week.”

“I have to go too,” Qui-Gon grimaced. “I had to go every day when I was on Trell.” He wondered who had decided Anakin needed therapy and hoped the boy did not feel any stigma about it. Therapy was probably a good thing for someone born a slave and taken away from their mother.

Anakin shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I just don’t like being told I _hafta_ do it.”

“Me neither,” Qui-Gon confessed. “But it’s probably good for me, like the protein shakes.” He could be a good role model.

“Sometimes I see Obi-Wan there,” Anakin reported.

“You have sessions with Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon had frankly been starting to get concerned with Anakin’s preoccupation with his former apprentice, but assumed it was because Anakin knew him slightly and was having trouble deciding who to trust.

“No, he has his own healer. I see him in the waiting room. He only goes now when he comes back to the Temple.”

Qui-Gon was a bit disturbed that Obi-Wan _still_ needed therapy. _He had been knighted, what, six? Seven months ago?_ Perhaps he was finding the transition too difficult?

“Well, he must find it helpful.”

“That’s what he said. He said it was good to talk things out if he was worried and meditation didn’t help.” The boy leaned over to whisper. “I don’t like meditation.”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Most active young children don’t like it at first. It’s much more fun to run from place to place and use your other senses. But meditation will help you calm your mind so you can see and hear with the Force.” He smiled at Anakin’s unimpressed look. “Like many things it will get easier with practice.”

Anakin sighed. “Do I have to practice _everything_? When do I get to _do_ stuff?”

“Eventually practice will be doing the things you are practicing now.” Qui-Gon sipped at his tea. “Have they started you on any saber drills yet?”

“Kind of,” Anakin had wolfed down most of his food in the first ten minutes (which was an improvement over the first two months when it only took five minutes) and was picking at the crumbs. “We have to do routines with sticks, but once a week we get practice sabers and we also get to watch older Jedi fighting, I mean _sparring_.”

“They’ll probably have you use practice sabers for drills soon. Sticks hurt less if you make a mistake.”

Anakin nodded, “I know.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow.

“The healers already saw it.” Anakin rolled his eyes again, as if he thought this was unnecessary.

“Who did you see sparring?” Qui-Gon had fond memories of witnessing such matches at Anakin’s age, just before the pressure to be selected as a padawan learner took the joy out of it for a while.

“We saw Master Thellen and Master Ludi and Master Mullis and Master K’trill.”  
  
Qui-Gon recognized these as Temple Masters who trained senior initiates.

“Master Yoda comes sometimes and takes us to see the Field Jedi sparring. We got to see Master Windu and Master Urus and we got to see some knights doing . . . open spar?” He smiled when Qui-Gon nodded to confirm he had the term correct. “That was cool, they all went _really_ fast. It was fun to watch, and Master Yoda didn’t talk as much or tell us what to pay attention to.” He drank some more water, because Master Qui-Gon was drinking water, even though it meant he had to pee _all the time!_ “Obi-Wan was there too,” he mentioned, almost as an afterthought.

“Really?” Qui-Gon asked, surprised Yoda would have included him. “Who was he sparring with?”

“Um,” Anakin frowned, trying to remember. “He was big, with yellow stripes on his face and big hair and was a knight.” He thought harder when this did not yield any signs of recognition. “Um, Knight Vuss, I think?”

“Quinlan Vos?” Qui-Gon suggested.

“Yes, _Vos._ I don’t know his first name. Master Yoda called Obi-Wan ‘Knight Kenobi.’” Clearly this sounded as weird to Anakin as it did to Qui-Gon. “All the other initiates called them that too, but the other knight called him ‘Obi-Wan.’”

Apparently, Obi-Wan _was_ getting friendly with Quinlan Vos.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and centered himself. Obi-Wan Kenobi was no longer his apprentice and it was no longer his business who Obi-Wan chose to associate with.

“Was it a good match?”

“Yeah!” Anakin’s face lit up with excitement. “They went _really_ fast and went all around the room. They crashed their lightsabers,” the boy used his mouth to make the appropriate sound effects, “and they jumped over each other and got really sweaty. It was _great_!”

Qui-Gon smothered a laugh. He supposed that was a fairly accurate report from an untrained nine-year-old. “What did Master Yoda say?”

Anakin took a moment to remember. “He told us that we have to study our forms and routines until we can do them without thinking about it, because in real lightsaber fights, they go much faster. Then he asked us to count how many forms we knew that the knights did, but fast.” He grinned. “That was fun, but I think I missed a bunch. Master Yoda said he would take us to watch again.”

“Sounds like it was a good lesson.”

“Yeah, that one was wizard.”

They finished their meal and left the café to walk through the gardens before returning Anakin to the dorms. The boy seemed much calmer and secure now that questions he had been afraid to ask had been answered. 

“Master Qui-Gon?” Anakin glanced at his lightsaber, then up at his face. “Were you angry at Obi-Wan because he used your lightsaber?”

“What?” Sensing this would be a thorny problem, Qui-Gon sat down on a bench and gestured for Anakin to join him. “What do you mean?”

The boy looked uneasy. “You told me in class that each Jedi builds their own lightsaber and it’s special and just for them. Obi-Wan used your lightsaber on Naboo.” He winced, as if hoping Qui-Gon already knew that. “Is that why you were mad and threw him out?”

“I wasn’t angry at Obi-Wan.”

Anakin looked as if he didn’t believe him.

“Obi-Wan moved out so there would be room for you. It was time for him to move on.”

“Why did you have guards then?” Anakin pulled on his tabard nervously. “They were all talking while he was packing, wondering what he did wrong.”

Qui-Gon winced internally. He supposed having Temple Guards attend the eviction was a bit over the top and probably embarrassing for Obi-Wan, but it was policy for an official eviction, and he had needed (or thought he had needed) such to force the Council’s hand. And it had worked, somewhat. Obi-Wan _did_ have his trials, eventually, and Anakin _did_ get accepted as an initiate.

“Obi-Wan didn’t do anything wrong.” It was the first time he had said it outside the healer’s office, and he still wasn’t entirely convinced.

Anakin’s face took on a fearful expression. “I don’t want to be thrown out of here if I do something wrong that I don’t know about.”

Qui-Gon’s heart lurched. He knew he had been insensitive to Obi-Wan’s feelings, but he hadn’t considered that having a (minimally) armed guard escort Obi-Wan out would have been upsetting to Anakin as well. The boy had seemed to accept his assurances at the time. Of course, he had been on some pretty good painkillers too, so he might have missed it.

“I wasn’t angry with Obi-Wan, I was concerned about _you_. The Council had refused to take you as an initiate, and they were stalling on Obi-Wan’s trials. I formally declared Obi-Wan was no longer my padawan so that he could move on and you could be secure in your place.” He leaned closer. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, but it looks like you have been doing well while I was away.”

Anakin frowned, thinking this over. “Did you tell Obi-Wan about it?”

“No, why?” Frankly, at the time he hadn’t really thought Obi-Wan would pass and with Anakin’s position so precarious, he didn’t want his former padawan running to the Council to protest and dragging the process out even more. Better to have it over with quickly.

Anakin looked as if he wasn’t sure he should continue. “He was really upset when it happened.” The boy looked down, kicking a toe into the gravel path. “He was trying not to cry, and he couldn’t fit everything in his bag.”

Qui-Gon tried to remember that day. Obi-Wan had been very quiet. Cooperative. Stoic. He had efficiently packed his bag and left without a fuss.

“The guards all thought you were sending him away. They weren’t sure where to take him.”

“Well, he went to Master Yoda’s quarters and it all worked out.”

Anakin looked down at the ground again. “He said he was going away, and he told me to take care of you.” He looked back up at the master. “Master Yoda doesn’t like me. Where will _I_ go if I hafta leave?”

_Maybe it was a good thing Anakin had a therapist._

“Anakin, you are not in danger of being sent away.” Qui-Gon sighed. _Maybe it was a good thing he had a therapist too_. “Jedi sometimes use eviction to punish student infractions. If padawans are very disobedient or are ‘disrupting the harmony of the home’ ( _and no, Master Dooku, he never thought he’d repeat_ that _particular phrase_ ) their masters will send them down to the Barracks to sort themselves out or to cool off. They let them back in a few days or weeks. That’s probably why the guards thought Obi-Wan had done something wrong.”

Anakin nodded, still looking worried.

“You’re still a small child, Anakin. They don’t evict initiates and even padawans have to be at least teenagers before they can stay in the Barracks.”

“You kept talking about your lightsaber when you were with the Healers, when you were sleeping funny.”

“I did?” Qui-Gon assumed Anakin meant when he was heavily sedated.

“You kept saying ‘don’t drop the lightsaber, Obi-Wan!’ Over and over. It really upset Obi-Wan and Master Yoda did something to make you stop. He said you were having bad dreams.”

“I don’t remember having them, but I’m sorry that confused you.” He sighed. He had been going over the events of Naboo with both Tahl and his therapist. “Obi-Wan did the right thing by using my lightsaber.” He swallowed uncomfortably. “He saved us both after I was injured.”

“So, you weren’t mad?” Anakin looked as if he still didn’t quite believe him and Qui-Gon was keenly aware there were precious few people this boy could trust.

“I wasn’t angry with him, I was afraid for you, and I did some things that I probably should have done differently. I should have told him what was happening before I did it, and I should have explained it to you as well. I’m sorry for that. Can you forgive me?”

“Yes. So you sometimes do dumb stuff when you’re scared?”

“Yes.” Tahl had said much the same thing but with more swear words.

“And fear leads to anger and other bad stuff, like Master Yoda said?”

“I was not aware Master Yoda told you that, but yes. It can.”

“So we need to figure out how to be less scared, so we don’t do stupid stuff?” Anakin looked as if he had suddenly realized a bunch of Jedi lessons actually had a practical application.

“Yes, we do.”

“And maybe Master Yoda will like me better if I do? So I can stay?”

“Anakin, Master Yoda is not going to send you away. The Council committed to taking you as a student.” Qui-Gon looked out over the gardens. “He sent _me_ away, but he did let me come back.”

“He’s mad at _you_?”

“He’s disappointed in me. I think that’s worse.”

“Yeah. Mom used to say that too, but she’d get mad first.” Anakin frowned. “Is Master Yoda the Temple Mom?”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Yes, I think he is.” The artificial lights were shading past sunset. He realized he should probably get Anakin back to his dorm for the night. “Is there anything else you wanted to ask?”

Anakin looked hesitant. “If somebody had something that was really bad, I should tell someone I trust, right?”

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. Clearly, he needed to meet with Anakin more frequently. The child had an amazing talent for questions requiring Big Long Discussions.

“Yes. I hope you feel you can trust me. What or who are we talking about?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a bad thing or a bad word that was just written there.”

Qui-Gon wondered if this was about fresher graffiti, then dismissed it. Anakin would have seen plenty of that growing up in Mos Espa, probably in multiple languages.

“It would help if I knew what this item or word was, Anakin.” He leaned closer. “You’re asking a question; you won’t get in trouble for saying a bad word in this context.”

Anakin nodded, screwed up his resolve, then stretched up to whisper in Qui-Gon’s ear. “Condoms.”

_Oh._

“Um, okay.” _Deep breath. Innocent child’s question_. “Who and in what context did someone tell you condoms were a very bad thing?”

Anakin relaxed a bit when he sensed Master Jinn was not upset, merely surprised. “My mom. She said they were very bad we weren’t supposed to touch them. Sometimes bad people would leave them on the ground behind our house, or in the alleys where we liked to play. We were supposed to get an adult if we found any.”

“Ah. Yes, your mother is correct, Anakin. You should not touch used condoms you find on the street.” He tried to think of a way to explain it without negating Shmi’s instructions. “Condoms are like tissues. You don’t want to touch somebody else’s after they’ve used it.”

“They have germs? They can make you sick?”

“Yes, they may have germs, worse than nose germs, and the germs can make you sick. An unused condom isn’t inherently bad.”

Anakin still looked doubtful, so he tried again.

“Remember when Obi-Wan took you to the healers and you had to get shots?”

The boy nodded.

“What did the healer do with the needle after they stuck you with it?”

“She put it in a big box with other needles and said it had to go there so no one would get stuck and so the germs wouldn’t spread.” His face brightened in understanding. “We would sometimes find needles too and have to get a grownup. But healers use needles too.”

“Yes, and good people use condoms too. They are only a problem when they aren’t disposed of correctly.”

“So they aren’t a bad thing?”

“No. They are something mature adults use to keep germs from spreading and you’ll learn about that in your health classes. But very rude and inconsiderate people don’t dispose of them properly and that can endanger other people.”

“Oh, okay. So Mom was right but didn’t tell me _everything._ ”

“She was probably waiting until you were older.”

Anakin giggled. “Because they are shaped like a man-thing?”

Qui-Gon snorted. That _was_ the literal translation for the Huttese slang for penis. “Yes, and that’s generally what they are used on.”

“Eww.” Anakin seemed both revolted and amused. “Grownups are weird.”

“Should I ask where you came across a condom in the Temple?” Qui-Gon could remember finding a handful when snooping in his Dorm Master’s room as an initiate, but it was equally possible some padawans were experimenting inappropriately.

“I don’t know if there were any,” Anakin shrugged. “Obi-Wan had a box that said ‘condoms’ in his fresher cabinet.”

Qui-Gon felt the blood drain from his face. “Obi-Wan . . . had a box of condoms . . . and showed it to you?”

“No,” Anakin shook his head. “It was just there. I saw it when he opened the cabinet to get the burn salve and when he put it back. That’s why I didn’t know if the box just said that. Is it bad that he had it?”

_Deep breath. Adult now. Knighted. Probably fu—_

“It’s _not_ a bad thing. I was just surprised he had any.” _ADULT NOW_. “Why were you in his fresher?”

Anakin blushed. “I messed up with my practice saber and burned myself after we saw his open spar. He put salve on it and made me go to the Healers to make sure it was done right.”

_To make sure you go next time._

_Deep breath. Not your business._ “Anakin, it’s not a bad thing that Obi-Wan has a box of condoms, but it’s not polite for us to discuss whether he does or not.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose. “Are they a _sex thing_?”

Qui-Gon was momentarily stunned by the blunt question. “Yes.”

“Oh, well that makes _much_ more sense.”

_Thank the Force._

“I think that’s enough questions for today.” It was so dark they could barely see each other’s expressions. “Let’s get you home before light’s out.”

“Okay.” Anakin hopped off the bench and took Qui-Gon’s hand when he stood up to lead him out of the garden. “I’m glad you’re back and not bleeding anymore.”

Qui-Gon summoned a genuine smile as they stepped into the bright hallway and headed toward the dorms. “I’m glad to be back too.”

He had been looking forward to a nice long soak and meditation after his hard day of physical therapy and walking on carpeted hallways, but his last discussion with Anakin had disturbed him. It was not surprising that he had found himself in a lift getting off on Tahl’s floor instead of his own. It was surprising to find himself sharing the lift with Tahl’s next door neighbor.

“Visiting Tahl, you are.” Master Yoda stepped out of the lift ahead of him. “Too loud do not be. Early morning I have.”

“We won’t be, Master,” Qui-Gon replied, feeling like a scolded padawan, but also grateful Yoda was talking to him at all.

“Better you look, but still volatile you are.” The ancient master put his clawed hand on the palm reader to unlock his door. Qui-Gon rang Tahl’s doorbell; it was a bit late to just walk in, unannounced.

“I’ve been cooperating with the healers this time, Master Yoda.”

Yoda’s door opened. “Hrrmph. Meditation you need more than lay.”

Qui-Gon already felt off balance. Being called out on his (currently on hiatus) sex life was not helping. “Master, I promise, we’ll be _quiet_. I haven’t been cleared for strenuous activity yet.”

“Too bad for Master Tahl,” Yoda peered up at him from behind his half-closed door. “More creative I thought you were.” The door shut, leaving Qui-Gon standing on Tahl’s doorstep, ears burning. Still, if Master Yoda was teasing him about sex, he probably wasn’t doomed to be on the poodoo list forever.

Tahl opened the door, looking concerned. “What’s the matter? I could feel your distress all the way from the fresher.”

Qui-Gon hustled in. “Master Yoda knows about our relationship.”

Tahl rolled her blind eyes as she locked the door behind him. “He lives next door. He probably knows a hell of a lot more than that.”

“You don’t find that disturbing?”

“No,” Tahl stretched and yawned. “I’ve met some of _his_ lovers.”

“What?” Qui-Gon asked stupidly. “Why?”

“He’s _next door_. We share a balcony. I borrow tea sometimes, and he borrows sugar. We’re neighbors. And Jedi. Besides, there are no padawans on this floor. We’re a little more open here.”

Qui-Gon glanced at the wall the two apartments shared. “I really don’t want to think about that.”

Tahl looked bored. “I’m going to assume that’s not what brought you all the way here in this unsettled state.” She sat on the couch and waited for Qui-Gon to join her or pace. Qui-Gon opted to pace.

“You’re right, it’s not.” He took a deep breath. “I found out from an,” he coughed. “Unconventional source that Obi-Wan has condoms in his fresher.”

Tahl faced him, her expression blank. “And?”

“And? Tahl, what the hell is he doing with condoms?”

“Do I really need to explain that to you?”

“Tahl,” Qui-Gon huffed. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Remember your therapy? Obi-Wan is an adult now. Responsible adults use condoms.”

“But,” his mind flashed with his mental picture of his former apprentice. Short, small, barely grown into adult-sized robes, all elbows and knees. “Tahl, he hasn’t had his S-training. What kind of trouble could he get getting into?”

“Hopefully the good kind.”

“Tahl, he could get hurt out there.”

“And you’re only worried about this _now_?”

“It wasn’t a problem before now.”

“Of course it was a problem before now. Obi-Wan is an _adult_. He’s been an adult for _eight years now_ , Qui-Gon. _Eight_. You had plenty of time to take care of this and you didn’t, and now he just has to figure it out for himself.”

“He’s not—”

Tahl made a face so cold he stopped dead.

 _Deep breath_. “I didn’t give him the training I should have and now I’m worried he may find himself in a situation he can’t handle.”

“Good,” Tahl nodded. “You articulated your feelings. Now write that down for your next therapy session.” She waited, a stern expression on her face until Qui-Gon pulled out his datapad and did just that.

“What am I supposed to do about this in the meantime?” Qui-Gon sat down next to her and leaned his head on the back of the couch.

“There’s nothing you can do, Qui-Gon. That door is closed, and you welded it shut. The only thing you can do is offer advice or assistance if Obi-Wan asks you for it.” She groped for his hand. “You know it’s going to be a cold day on Mustafar before that happens, right?”

Qui-Gon squeezed her hand. He knew she was still angry at him, possibly even more disappointed than Master Yoda, but she had stood by him and hadn’t abandoned him.

“I . . .” Only now was he starting to appreciate the situation he had left his former apprentice in. “It’s probably better for him if he doesn’t.” He couldn’t bring himself to do it when Obi-Wan was barely an adult. Now he was practically a stranger.

“I offered.”

“What?” Qui-Gon stared at Tahl in shock.

“I offered to give him his S-training after I came back from visiting you on Trell. He very politely turned me down.”

“He did?” The offer was strange enough to imagine, but Obi-Wan refusing even more so. _How many offers did he think he’d get_?

“He said you and I were too close, and he didn’t want the issues between you and him to come between you and me. He did thank me though.”

“So, he’s just figuring it out on his own?”

“Yes. Just like millions of other sentient beings all across the galaxy who are not Jedi. And a bit later than most.”

_Maybe it was a good thing Obi-Wan still had a therapist._

“Qui-Gon,” Tahl tugged at his hand to make sure she had his attention. “What happened to all of Obi-Wan’s stuff?”

“His stuff?”

“His belongings. Bant said the only things in his apartment were a few books and his clothes.”

“Huh,” he hadn’t really thought beyond the eviction. He assumed Obi-Wan would have been assigned quarters if he failed his trials and whatever hadn’t fit into his bags would be moved then, when he was helping to train Anakin. “It must still be in Anakin’s room. I haven’t made myself go in there since the Initiate Masters moved him out.”

Tahl squeezed his hand. “Maybe it’s time you did.”

He certainly wasn’t going on missions any time soon. “Maybe it is.” He settled his head back on the couch, wanting to cover his eyes with his arm but knowing the small comfort would not be worth the pain of lifting said arm over his head. “Force, Tahl. Condoms! Obi-Wan is buying damn condoms!”

“Yay! Obi-Wan!” Tahl could feel Qui-Gon’s glare. “Figuring it out!” When Qui-Gon continued to sputter, mind blown, she decided not to tell him where Bant had said they had actually come from.

* * *

“Are you sure Knight Carlin won’t mind spending the evening with the girls?” Bail asked as he and Knight Vos entered the lift to take them to a lower level in the palace. “We’re not actually planning on doing any real diplomatic work or anything, but I didn’t want to assume her preferences or dismiss her skills.”

Quinlan laughed. “Yes, she was looking forward to it. Kressa spent most of her apprenticeship at a diplomatic posting on an alien world with a non-human master. She never really had a chance to be a ‘girly-girl’ before. Boardgames and hair-braiding are a welcome respite and adventure.”

Bail looked pointedly at the Kiffar’s dreadlocks. “You are also welcome to attend the spa night if you’d prefer. You wouldn’t be the only male there.”

“Nah.” Quinlan had had his fun, but Bail’s party had sounded like more his type of thing from Obi-Wan’s description. “Kenobi said there would be ale and sabacc?”

“Yes, though we aren’t playing for credits and no one gets all that drunk.” Bail leaned in conspiratorially. “We’re playing against Jedi, you know.”

Quin snorted. Despite the awkward introduction, he was really starting to like Bail Organa. “Do all the diplomats get invited to this, because there were some serious professional gamblers from the Rygon mission.”

“No, this is a family tradition. My cousins on both the Organa and Antilles side all get together along with members of the other Elder Houses for the Summit. Practice their diplomacy, see and be seen, that sort of thing. The younger people like to cut loose a little and visit with family, so one night of the Summit we do this. A couple decades ago, my older cousins started inviting the younger Jedi to participate to help foster relations. Sometimes the older Jedi come as well, but this is the first time in decades when there have been no padawans.”

“Well, it was very kind of you to include us.”

Bail smiled as they stepped out of the lift. “The Jedi have been very good to us. We try to return the favor.”

“Too bad you couldn’t get Kenobi to come. He could use a night out.”

Bail stopped, surprised. “He’s not coming?”

“I don’t think so. He’s been great to work with on the mission, but I think he’s spent every night we’ve been here meditating in his room or the palace gardens. Kressa and I have been trying to coax him out, but, well to be honest, he’s the only one of us three who knows this Summit backwards and forwards, and we know we’re leaning on his experience, so if he wants to unwind with a little ‘Force therapy’ we’re not going to criticize. We just hoped he’d, you know, have fun.”

“Is he okay?” Bail looked genuinely concerned. “I know he had some sort of falling out with Master Jinn, and now the only other Jedi he talks about is Master Yoda.”

“Master Yoda sponsored him for his trials. Obi-Wan visits him whenever he gets back to the Temple.”

“Is he related to the Master Yoda on the Council?” Bail started walking down the corridor again.

“One and the same,” Quinlan replied. “There is only one Master Yoda, Grand Master of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.”

“Hmm?”

“Oldest Jedi in residence. Revered. Respected. Imitated often but accept no substitutions.”

“I’m sorry, which one is Yoda? I don’t deal with the Council Jedi at all.”

“The short, little green troll that _doesn’t_ have hair.”

Bail’s eyes widened. “Oh. Maybe I have met him.”

“You’d remember. About so high,” he held out his hand. “Talks backwards.”

“Grand Master of the _Temple_?”

“Yep.”

“Crap, I have met him.”

“Diplomatic _faux pas_?”

“Yeah,” Bail sighed.

“Ouch. Maybe Obi-Wan can smooth it over. He’s got an in. Yoda probably doesn’t even know my name.”

“Um, no. Just . . . water under the bridge.”

They came to an ornate set of doors, one of which was standing open. A guard or a butler, Vos wasn’t sure which, was sitting on a stool outside, a sandwich from the buffet at his elbow. Clearly this was a private but informal party. Sandwich Man waved them in, no need to check credentials in their case. Quinlan followed Bail into a large den, full of young Alderaanian nobles and royals, most but not all of whom were male. A large, round table had been set up across from the buffet and a game of was in progress.

“Oh good, he did come,” Bail smiled and waved as various partygoers greeted him before pointing out Obi-Wan sitting at the large table.

Quinlan actually stopped and stared. Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting amongst, well, not his peers, but actual young people, in simple but civilian clothes no less, and had a respectable pile of sabacc chips in front of him. Pity they weren’t playing for actual credits. Quinlan could use a new pair of shoes. And a speeder.

“He _can_ play with others.”

Bail laughed. “Looks like Rouge dressed him this time.”

“She actually made his hair look good.” Quinlan was surprised. “Half-grown padawan hair is extra challenging.”

“That’s Celly. He’s always been very patient with her.” Bail smiled at Obi-Wan who had just announced his hand to a chorus of groans.

Quinlan wasn’t a Jedi for nothing. “Do you and Kenobi have,” he waved his hand vaguely. “Something?”

“Something?” Bail looked genuinely confused.

Vos held up his gloved hands. “I know The Rules, but you honestly sound more interested in his life than a casual friend.”

“Ah, no.” Bail’s voice grew quiet, though his face remained pleasant. It was disturbingly like a fun house reflection of the Jedi mask, showing the situation-appropriate emotion rather than none at all. “Not _that_ something. Come, sit. This story needs ale.”

Quinlan followed behind as the prince grabbed them each a bottle of local brew chilling in a tub that was itself an ice sculpture, then began piling a plate with sandwich fixings, encouraging Vos to do the same. Once well stocked, he led the way to a small table in the corner, away from the rest of the revelers enjoying the food, playing (or just watching) the sabacc game, or playing other dice and card games around the room.

“You mentioned The Rules,” Bail began as he popped the cap off his ale, then offered the ridiculously ornate bottle opener to Vos. “Obi-Wan’s heard them enough that he could probably recite them by heart.”

“He did,” Quin confirmed. “I found them later in the intel the Council sent. They usually trust us enough to only remind us not to sleep with nobles and royals once.”

Bail laughed quietly. “Yes, the Jedi have been careful to emphasize that here. You see, when I was but a young lad, the lovely teenage daughter of an Alderaanian nobleman had a short-lived romance with a brash young man in the Jedi Service Corps. It was sweet, it was romantic, it was over in six weeks and he and his discount lightsaber were shipped off to the Inner Rim on his next assignment. Unfortunately for the noblewoman, it did not just end there.”

“Hmm,” Quinlan took a swig of his ale. Like everything on this mission, it was in excellent taste. “So, was it inappropriate holos, embarrassing venereal disease or an unwanted pregnancy?”

Bail picked up his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before answering, his face still a pleasant mask. “The third one. Born offworld, cared for away from the actual mother. Fortunately for all involved his blood tests were borderline, just high enough to send him to the Jedi Temple and make _the_ _problem_ as the unwilling grandparents put it, go away. The noblewoman was told in all honesty that it was likely the child would end up in the Service Corp instead of being a keeper of the peace, but considering the dubious parentage, no one complained. All in all, it was very embarrassing for both sides.

“I’ll bet.” It certainly explained not only The Rules, but why the Royal House of Alderaan thought it could make demands of the Jedi High Council.

“So, you treat Jedi well because they made _the problem_ go away?”

“No,” Bail sipped his own ale casually, clearly not interested in more than the mildest social lubrication. “We take good care of Jedi because they take care of us. Politics and diplomacy are the family business after all, on both sides. Senator Antilles is my mother’s brother.” He took another bite, still calm for all that he was sharing diplomatic secrets. “The tradition of inviting the young Jedi came about as a means to foster connections outside the usual diplomatic relationships. Those of us in the younger generation did not like how our elders _made the problem go away_ and were curious about who that baby had been sent off with. We wanted to know what happened to it. We wanted to know it was safe.”

“So you made friends with some Jedi.”

“It was beneficial for other reasons as well, but family is very important on Alderaan, for good or ill.”

“Most Jedi don’t know their families. Did you ever find out?”

“A Core world senator has a surprising amount of pull, so yes, we did. He was assigned to the Agri Corps. The embassy had his identification records flagged in the event he ever ended up in trouble and needed traveling credentials. Service Corps Jedi get caught up in nasty scrapes too.”

“So, what happened? You ever have to pull him out of some hellhole?”

“Not exactly. His papers came up exactly once. Status inquiry. Turns out he was no longer in the Agri Corps and had been looking into his own records to find out his citizenship status. As you can imagine, the representative of the Alderaanian Embassy on Coruscant was not amused to discover the Jedi had taken such poor care of this child that a sixteen year old had to look up his own credentials to find out what planets he was legally allowed to live on if the Jedi no longer wanted anything to do with him.” Bail took another sip of his ale, his tone turning self-deprecating. “Said representative may have expressed his strong feelings quite loudly and angrily to a little green troll without any hair.”

Quinlan couldn’t help it, he laughed out loud. “Oh, man, that _is_ bad. I take it you didn’t know who you were talking to at the time.”

“No, _hell_ no. I only found out now. He had files, he was the second person I saw, I didn’t think they’d bring any big guns out for a washed out Agri Corps Jedi, even if I did work directly for Senator Antilles and I was the damn Prince of Alderaan. It’s not as if I mentioned that last bit when I arrived.” He winced. “Oldest Jedi in the Temple? _Really_?”

Quinlan shrugged. “Eight hundred some odd years old.”

“Crap. In any case, I made a royal fool of myself, but the little troll just waited for me to calm down and told me that it was a misunderstanding on their end, _I think_ , and he would take care of it, and they were not sending the boy out into the cold, cruel galaxy with nothing.”

Quin shook his head. “Hopefully Yoda won’t remember you the next time you have to go to one of those swank Coruscant soirees. _Damn_.” He sipped his ale. “So, what happened to him? How the hell do you wash out of the kriffing Agri Corps anyway? Where did he finally end up?”

“Funny story. Apparently, he left the Agri Corps because he was chosen as a padawan. The next year the Council started sending more masters with padawans to the Summit, and my sisters got to play Dress Up the Jedi but despaired of ever doing anything with their buzzcuts and braids. As for where he ended up,” Bail nodded toward the back of the room. “He’s currently cleaning out his cousins and mine in sabacc.”

Quinlan turned just in time to see the game erupt into another round of groans as Obi-Wan’s chip pile grew.

One of the players, Prince Something-or-Other Antilles, laughed heartily as Obi-Wan took the pot. “Oh, Kenobi, _you royal bastard_.” The table cheered with good-natured laughter.

Quinlan turned back around, stunned.

Bail shrugged. “Technically he’s just a noble bastard.”

“Everyone knows?”

“The Antilles family knows, at least the younger set. The Senator knows. From the Organa family, I know, and my two eldest sisters know. We’ll probably tell Tia after he leaves again. His mother and grandparents have met my friend ‘Ben from Coruscant.’ I think he is aware on some level that we’re related, but probably thinks it’s more distant than it is, since he clearly gave you the same rules he was given as a seventeen-year-old with the other padawans.” Bail looked Quinlan in the eye. “As bad as illegitimate children are, unintentional incest is worse.”

“Damn.”

“So, yes. Kenobi and I have a _something_ , just not the something you thought.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

Bail wiped his mouth with a napkin, all polite as if he were at a state dinner and not an impromptu pub. “I want information. I know Obi-Wan had some bad shit go down with Master Jinn and it wasn’t the first time. I want to know if he’s in danger of being tossed out on his ass before he has to show up at the embassy homeless with just the tunic on his back.”

Quinlan blinked, taking this all in. “Okay, so firstly, no, I don’t think Kenobi is in any danger of being drummed out of the Jedi. Kressa and I looked him up. He was knighted with honors, he’s been moving up beyond basic missions, and he . . . well I can’t tell you that part because of secret Jedi shit, but yeah, his last mission with Master Jinn makes my whole damn apprenticeship sound like a lovely extended camping trip. Plus, he hangs out with Yoda. _Voluntarily_. So no, his place as a Jedi Knight looks very secure.” Quinlan downed the last of his ale, organizing his thoughts. “Secondly, yes, there was some pretty bad shit that went down between Obi-Wan and Master Jinn after that mission. None of us know what, exactly, but Kenobi was knighted, and Jinn was censured by the Council, so again, I don’t think they are throwing Obi-Wan out any time soon. Jinn maybe, but not Kenobi. Finally, are you sure you have the right Jedi? Because some parts of your story don’t add up.”

“I’m sure.” Bail looked amused by his doubt. “Besides the fact that I know his name, age, date of birth and identity number, Celly managed to get enough of his hair for a DNA sample. So yes, I’m sure.”

When Quinlan still looked doubtful, Bail pulled out a casually elegant datapad and called up an image. “This is Lord Julian Prestor, his mother’s brother, in his youth. Imagine him with green eyes and auburn highlights.”

Quinlan looked over the picture, stunned. “Wow, um, damn. No, I see it.” He handed the datapad back. “What doesn’t add up is that borderline bantha shit.”

“What do you mean?”

Quinlan sighed, trying to find the best approach, then reluctantly pulled off his gloves and held out his hand. “Hand.”

Bail looked at his quizzically.

“Give me your hand.”

“Um, Obi-Wan explained that you don’t like to touch people.”

“I like to _choose_ when I touch people. Humor me.”

Bail relented. Quinlan loosely held the prince’s hand between his own.

“Hmm, your ring is really old.” He let go and put his gloves back on. “Also, as I suspected, _you’re_ borderline. Obi-Wan’s not.”

“ _I’m_ borderline?”

Quinlan shrugged. “Most top politicians are. Charisma only goes so far. But yeah, you’re borderline.”

“My blood was screened. I was quite within the normal range.”

“Was it run by the same idiot who said Obi-Wan was borderline? Look, I know that might be what his parents or some Temple bureaucrat told your family to shut you up, because there are always people asking about some obscure relative who can swoop in with the Force or a lightsaber to fix their life, but Obi-Wan Kenobi is not borderline. I’ve sparred with him. Not only is he damn fast with a lightsaber, he has thrown me around the salle with the Force. I’m no pushover. Not in general and not in the midi-chlorian department. I don’t know his count, but he’s definitely _not_ borderline.”

“That’s . . . very unexpected,” Bail said at last.

Quinlan shrugged. “It’s very possible he’s developed his skills above what would be normal for his age and count, I mean he meditates _all the time_ , but no, I’ve seen what he can do, and I’ve met plenty of ‘borderline Jedi’ in the Corps. He’s dedicated, but he definitely has innate, raw talent. He can be hard to read though, which might make him seem less powerful than he is.”

“You’re sure of this?” Bail looked as if everything he had ever been told about his kinsman had been turned on its head. “Master Jinn worked him very hard, and he has always shown great diplomatic skills, but Jinn always implied his connection to the Force was sub-par and that he lacked focus.”

Quinlan’s eyes widened. “Qui-Gon Jinn did that _in front of you_?”

Bail shifted a bit in his seat, the first sign he had shown of discomfort. “Yes. He didn’t actively seek out an audience, but he never kept his criticisms private either.” His eyes darted away. “The other masters didn’t seem to do the same unless the infraction was serious. I think we had an underage drinking issue once and the dressing down was quite public. But Master Jinn never seemed wholly satisfied with him and had no qualms about making that known. I think it made some of the other padawans uncomfortable, but when I asked, they just said that Jedi Masters have high standards and padawans are expected to control their emotions.”

“Um,” Quinlan looked back at the sabacc table where a match seemed to be heating up between Kenobi and Prince-Was-He-Another-Bail? “That explains a lot, actually.”

“Master Jinn is a fine negotiator and I don’t discount his skills, but he was very harsh and exacting.” Bail frowned, “but only to his own apprentice. He was quite friendly and approachable to others.”

“I take it you’re not that upset he wasn’t here this year.”

“Not particularly.” Bail glanced down at Quinlan’s re-gloved hands. “Did you ever, um, hold Obi-Wan’s hand?”

Quin raised an eyebrow. “To _check_ him?” He snorted when Bail nodded. “Just a finger brush once. Yeah, _not_ borderline. Force sensitivity feels like a hum, or a buzz to me. I didn’t get a good read, but it’s obvious.” He shrugged. “The fingerless gloves let me use my senses without getting overwhelmed. Like sunglasses. He was strong enough to tell.”

“Is that a talent all Jedi have? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s actually inherent to the Kiffar, but being Force-sensitive makes it much stronger, sometimes to an irritating degree.” He flexed his gloved hands. “It’s also a talent many Jedi have to one degree or another, but for most they’ll only ever pick something up if the imprint is very strong or the item was handled by someone they know well. Kressa doesn’t really have it so far as I can tell, and Kenobi says he’s terrible at it.” Quinlan shrugged. “Of course, with Jinn as his master, I’m unclear on his definition of terrible. He also claimed he wasn’t in top form the first time we sparred, and he still won three out of five, so I take it with a grain of salt.”

Bail chuckled. “It’s interesting to see him now, outside of Master Jinn’s influence. He still tries to do his best, but he’s no longer trying to please someone who will never be satisfied with him.”

“Oh, gods, _really_?” A loud complaint came from the sabacc table, followed by a round of laughter. Obi-Wan claimed the pot _again_ , then stood up and bowed theatrically to loud applause.

“How many was that?” one of the older teens asked.

“Eight hands, one point two hours,” another spectator waved a stopwatch. “A new record!” The table erupted into laughter again, the statistics were written on a slate mounted above the table along with the date and Obi-Wan disappeared beneath a crowd of hoots, cheers and backslapping.

“What just happened?” Quinlan asked.

Bail snorted. “Obi-Wan won all the chips. Well, he won so many that no one else has enough to play another hand. We started tracking the Jedi whenever they were good sabacc players.” Chips started rattling as they were returned to the dealer to be redistributed and the game restarted. Obi-Wan got up from the table to stretch his legs and get some food.

“They’re not mad?”

“Those who get angry don’t get invited back. Actually, they enjoy the practice and get more of a thrill if they can beat the Jedi. But in the end the Jedi tend to win the war.” He grinned at Vos. “You want to play next?”

Quinlan looked speculative. “Are all of you ‘well within the range of normal?’”

Bail shrugged. “I’ve always thought so.”

Quinlan looked back as a regular, non-Jedi game was being dealt out. “Maybe later.”

Bail looked up with a grin as Obi-Wan joined them at their table, his own ale poured into a glass because so far as Quinlan had learned, he was a bit prissy about that sort of thing. It wasn’t clear if this was his personality or an inability to turn off diplomacy manners.

“Good game?”

“It was,” Obi-Wan turned to Quinlan. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Quinlan nodded. “The food is good, and the conversation has been _interesting_.”

“Yes, his Highness has always been a source of excellent conversation.”

Bail rolled his eyes. “His Highness is going to gang up with his cousins and dunk you in the fountain if you call him _His Highness_ again with an ale in your hand. Relax, Ben.”

To Quinlan’s surprise, Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes twinkling.

“Normally I would, but your uncle’s here. Grown up manners apply.” He sipped his ale.

Quin and Bail craned their necks and _why yes,_ that _was_ Senator Antilles at the buffet, laughing with one of his sons and another of his nephews.

“Father isn’t. And Big Bail knows you.”

“Professionally.”

“We could dunk you in the fountain anyway and allow you to graduate to casual friends.”

Quinlan was amused by the byplay.

“You’d have to catch me first.”

Bail laughed and pushed the chair in front of Obi-Wan out with his foot. “Sit. Stay a while.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Quinlan apologetically. “If I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Quinlan picked up his sandwich, trying to look casual as he compared his two dining companions. They really looked nothing alike, even accounting for the variation in coloring, but now that he knew, he could see a faint resemblance with some of the other family members.

“Knight Vos thought you weren’t coming tonight.” Bail’s expression was casual, but his tone was concerned. “Are we working you too hard?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’m a knight now. I’m supposed to be working hard, but no, I had planned on coming. Balance and all.” He sipped at his ale. “And no, you aren’t working me too hard. I hope your family has found the three of us to be an effective team, and that the Summit bears fruit for future diplomatic relations.”

“The family is pleased,” Bail confirmed. “Big Bail seems to be too.”

“What do I seem to be, Bail Prestor?” All three of them looked up to see Senator Antilles standing on the fourth side of the table, his face clearly asking permission to join the group.

Bail Prestor gestured for him to sit down. “You seem pleased with the Summit and our current Jedi team.”

“Ah, yes. Very.” Big Bail poured his own ale into a glass and looked around the room, pleased to see all the young people socializing. “You three really came together and pulled it all off on short notice. As usual, neither the family nor the government have any complaints about the Jedi contribution to the Summit.” He turned to Quinlan. “You and Knight Carlin have been instrumental in gaining the trust of the delegates.”

“We’ve dealt with their kind before,” Quinlan replied. “The Council had us working that region of space for several months and that particular section of the Outer Rim was settled by relatively few colonists and there is a long history of community hopping, so the cultures are a lot more homogenous than they appear. Unfortunately, they also have a lot of squabbling.”

“We shall have to have you again if our Summit and your expertise coincide.”

“Or you’re in the neighborhood,” Bail Prestor offered.

“I’d love to come back,” Quinlan confirmed. “Don’t get me wrong, we did work, but the people and the accommodations make it a welcome break from the normal Jedi grind.”

“As it should be.” Big Bail turned to Obi-Wan. “And Knight Kenobi, you’ve also done an excellent job, but then you and Master Jinn always have.”

Obi-Wan smiled politely, but Quinlan noticed the earlier sparkle was absent. “I mentioned Her Majesty’s preference for Master Jinn in my draft of the final report. I don’t know his current status, but he may be able to return to the next summit.”

“Honestly, I feel you young knights have been a welcome breath of fresh air. Blowing off the dust on this musty old tradition. Changing of the guard. But then it’s not up to me to decide, merely to smooth over when opinions and expectations differ.” He looked at Bail Prestor. “Of course, you are far more reasonable than your mother. I’m sure Master Yoda and the Jedi Council will find dealing with you much more straightforward when you are Viceroy.”

Obi-Wan perked up. “You know Master Yoda, Senator?”

“Oh yes,” Big Bail rolled his eyes. “My sister sends him letters, well, letters to the Council anyway, then I have to go in and calmly explain what the family is actually hoping to accomplish and why Her Majesty really doesn’t need four Jedi Masters and a gaggle of Knights and Padawans to do so.” He turned to Bail Prestor, gesturing with his glass of ale. “Best advice I can give you, Little Bail, don’t antagonize Master Yoda. He’s an ally on Coruscant you definitely want to have.”

Bail Prestor gave Quinlan a bleak look. The Kiffar burst out laughing.

“Master Yoda is the heart of the Jedi Temple,” Obi-Wan nodded at Big Bail. “He does appreciate your efforts to help foster peace and good relations in the galaxy.”

“You know, Kenobi here _lived_ with Master Yoda for a couple months. If you need advice on getting on his good side, he’d probably know.”

Little Bail looked torn between asking and having to admit his embarrassing mistake and choosing to wallow in denial.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I certainly _don’t_ speak for Master Yoda, and Master Jinn arguably knows him better than I do, but I’m sure he appreciates the customary donation Her Majesty makes to the Retired Jedi Fund.” He sipped his ale, thinking it over. “If you wanted to thank him more personally, well, I tend to go with food. Jedi don’t have many indulgences, but food or drink is generally a safe bet. Or something practical.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan agreed. “Field Jedi are rarely home to enjoy anything fancy, but we all have to eat, and even Master Yoda is active enough to burn off the calories.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan grinned. “I have no idea how he keeps up with the younglings. I can’t.”

“He gives them back after he hypes them up,” Quinlan retorted. Obi-Wan laughed, nodding in agreement.

“What kind of food?” Little Bail asked. “For Master Yoda?”

All eyes turned to Obi-Wan, who rested his chin on his hand, considering it seriously. “Hmm, biscuits are always a good choice, he can share them with the other masters at tea or with distraught younglings. Vegetables would be preferred to fruit if they are fresh.” He lifted his glass. “Ale or wine. But in small bottles. He seems to prefer it over hard liquor. Gourmet crickets, but nothing too extravagant.”

Quinlan blinked. “Master Yoda drinks ale?”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Yes, I’ve seen him do it. He doesn’t just meditate to relax. He has a drink once or twice a month, sometimes with friends. Never more than one, and of course in a small glass.”

Big Bail laughed. “Well yes, he is rather small himself. Gourmet crickets? Really?”

“Oh, he _devours_ gourmet crickets. The freeze-dried kind, with seasoning?” Obi-Wan replied. “It’s strangely fascinating to watch. I suspect they are closer to his native diet than most of the Temple food.”

“Fascinating?” Quinlan already knew Kenobi was a little strange, but _fascinating_?

Obi-Wan laughed at himself. “Have you ever seen a professional butcher, or a chef take apart a complex cut of meat or do knife work with amazing speed and precision?” He paused until Quinlan nodded. “Well, Master Yoda’s medium is apparently crickets. It’s as if suddenly his hands and claws make perfect sense.” He looked back at Big Bail. “He’s also fond of the big grasshopper legs, and other insectoid life, but those are less easy to gift.”

Big Bail glanced at Little Bail. “Bail Prestor, do I need to send the Jedi Council a gift basket of ale and crickets?”

Little Bail sighed. “Maybe?”

Quinlan laughed. “Probably just the crickets.”

Obi-Wan looked at Bail Prestor, raising an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

The prince sighed. “Not really, no.”

Big Bail shook his head, then pulled out his personal datapad, typing in ‘crickets’ on his to do list.

“Not Huttese style,” Obi-Wan added.

“Crickets,” Big Bail confirmed. “Not Huttese.”

“Grandmaster of the whole Temple?” Little Bail asked again.

“Yep,” Quinlan snorted. “The _whole_ Temple.”

The prince glared at Obi-Wan. “The next time Mother writes a letter we’re just calling you directly.”

“Call me too,” Quinlan got up to get another ale for himself and Little Bail, who clearly needed it. “I want to see this cricket thing in action.”

The rest of the Summit flew by. Between the three Jedi, the new diplomats, gifted mentors like Bail Antilles and many bottles of fine Alderaanian wine, a new treaty was hammered out that both sides actually seemed pleased with. The final night of the Summit found hosts and guests wining, dining and dancing at the Celebratory Ball. Rouge, Celly and even young Tia took turns dancing with delegates, peers and Jedi. Kressa dressed in an actual gown and had even performed a traditional ladies’ dance with the three princesses, honoring the rich cultural history of the planet. Quinlan acquainted himself with Bail’s cousins of both genders, trading stories and jokes. He and Kressa also accepted formal expressions of gratitude from both the king and queen. Obi-Wan danced as was required, then quietly made his way around the room, greeting delegates, congratulating them on resolving their issues and making formal farewells before the Summit officially closed in the morning. Eventually he found himself in a back corner, nursing a fancy water with Little Bail and Rouge.

“I’m going to be taking a few classes at the University on Coruscant next year,” Rouge smiled serenely, but her tone indicated she was rather excited about it. “Will I be allowed to visit you at the Temple?”

Obi-Wan paused, realizing that as a padawan he had never needed to consider the question before. “Jedi Knights are allowed to have visitors, though overnight guests are discouraged and there are many parts of the Temple that are off limits to outsiders.” He took a sip of his water. “My quarters are somewhat underwhelming. If I were to manage to be home during that time, we could possible arrange to meet for lunch, inside or outside the Temple, but I do not know what you would require in terms of a chaperone.”

Rouge rolled her eyes at the thought of needing a chaperone to visit her own kinsman, much less a Jedi kinsman, but family secrets had other, hidden costs. She turned to lay puppy eyes on her older brother.

Little Bail chuckled into his wine glass. “If the stars align and the Force is with us, Rose Red. Perhaps the incentive of seeing both of us can lure Ben to an informal dinner or an evening show.”

“I have some flexibility when I’m home between mission runs. I promise to make the effort to let you know when I’m back in residence.”

“Good.” Little Bail patted his shoulder. “Two years is too long to not see you, my friend.”

“Duty unfortunately comes before friendship.”

“For us both,” Bail agreed. “But if we can manage it, we would love to see you.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, touched by the sentiment. “If it’s the will of the Force.”

Big Bail came up behind them, kissing his niece on the cheek and patting his nephew on the back before he made his way to Obi-Wan. “Knight Kenobi, Her Majesty requests an audience with you.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “With me?” Even Bail and Rouge looked stunned, as their mother had ignored Kenobi throughout the Summit so far. With a formal bow to his companions, Obi-Wan followed the senator around to the far side of the ballroom, where they both waited patiently as Queen Mazicia finished her discussion with the mayor of Aldera.

As the live vocalist finished her last set and the dance orchestra returned to the dais, the queen approached the Jedi and her brother. “You have not shared a dance with us, young Knight.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to glance back at Big Bail for reassurance, though he could sense the other man’s surprise. “No, Your Majesty has not requested that of me.”

“Let us correct that.” She held out her hand gracefully as the orchestra struck up the opening notes for a formal waltz. Unclear on her motivations, Obi-Wan bowed, took the offered hand and led the queen onto the dance floor. Cautiously he placed his other hand at her waist as was customary for the dance. The queen nodded her approval and as the dance began, they joined the other revelers.

“Do you know who you are, young Knight?”

Obi-Wan kept in step but waited a few beats before answering. “As Jedi, we frequently question who we are. I find I am still at an age when I am learning who I am, Your Majesty.”

“Do you know your family?”

“Jedi have no family, Your Majesty.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-six standard years, Your Majesty.”

“Do you know what your name means?”

He paused again, but as before his steps did not falter. “I know that having the name I do would bar me from even entering the most conservative Elder Houses on Alderaan, Your Majesty. I am grateful that you have always been so kind as to overlook that and grant me the privilege of serving at the summit.”

The queen sniffed. “Celly was right, you _are_ a silver-tongued diplomat.”

There was no correct response beyond a quiet “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“You didn’t kiss my hand before the dance,” she raised an eyebrow, but didn’t seem truly offended.

“No, Your Majesty. That can be interpreted as declaring fealty. As a Jedi, I am respectful but must remain objective.”

“You are well-versed in our customs.” They had reached the point in the music where the dance changed and Obi-Wan moved to allow the queen to turn, her elegant skirts flaring as she twirled out, then returned.

“I have been to Alderaan before.”

“Yes, you have. No eyeliner this year?”

“No, Your Majesty,” he looked down, modestly. “That served its purpose at the time.”

The queen quirked her lip, not quite willing to laugh. “My children are under the mistaken impression that I don’t know who you are.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan still didn’t miss a step as they twirled again, but his expression was carefully blank.

“I suspect it’s more generous of them to assume I must have never noticed your name than to believe I’ve been deliberately pretending you don’t exist.”

Obi-Wan was silent for several beats of the music. “I understand my presence can be awkward, but if I have caused offense, you could have asked the Jedi Council that I not return.”

“You have not caused offense. Besides that, my son would not forgive outright ostracism. It was a very long time before he would accept that the Jedi Temple was the best place for you and not an attempt to hide you away.”

“That decision seems to have worked out for the best.”

“It has.” They changed position and direction, rotating around each other before resuming the original steps. “You’re grown up now. You’re now a Jedi Knight. You’re making a name for yourself beyond being the secret first cousin twice removed of the Queen of Alderaan.”

His eyes widened. “I thought it more distant, Your Majesty.”

“Please understand, I could not acknowledge you while your mother was young and still hoping to make a favorable marriage in a very traditional region of the planet. While my brother Bail and I would not wish to distress our kinswoman, it was never our intention to erase you from the House of Antilles.”

They entered the final spin of the dance. “Why are you telling me this now?”

When they had completed the spin and were once again face to face, the queen looked him in the eye. “You’re no longer a child. Your name will be known far beyond one small house on one small planet circling one beautiful star in the galaxy. And times have changed. Your mother has had ample time to enter a favorable marriage and at her age your existence is no longer an obstacle. I respect the she has closed your chapter in her life, but we are no longer obligated to do the same.” They stopped, facing each other as the final chords faded. “Alderaan will always be a world that welcomes you, as a diplomat, a visitor, a citizen or a Jedi, if you have need.”

Obi-Wan looked at her in surprise. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Mazicia stepped back, still clasping his hand as he bowed formally, thanking her for the dance. “We look forward to you visiting us again, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He relinquished her hand and to his surprise she leaned close, kissing him gently on the left cheek, then slipped away. Alderaanian decorum did not demand punishment for breaches in etiquette, but actions were imbued with meaning.

Bowing showed respect.

Hand kissing declared fealty.

Wearing of flowers showed favored status.

A kiss to the right cheek indicated romantic or sexual intent.

A kiss to the left cheek acknowledged family, or friends so close as to have entered that circle.

Obi-Wan stared after the reigning monarch of Alderaan, just as stunned as the cousins, diplomats and courtiers surrounding him. So stunned in fact, that he stood motionless until Big Bail came up to him, clapped him on the shoulder and led him back to Little Bail and Rouge who had now been joined by a wide-eyed Celly and Tia. Big Bail’s own children were starting to approach the periphery of the group. Little Bail gave his mother a grateful look before turning to his cousin and openly hugging him tightly. “I know Jedi don’t have family, but you’ll always be part of ours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone enjoyed a little speculative backstory for Obi-Wan. Apologies if things are not Legends compliant.


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon does some spring cleaning, both physically and mentally, and Obi-Wan has an interesting therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title and song lyrics from Gotye's _Somebody That I Used to Know_. The video is a bit weird, but the sentiment seemed to fit.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UVNT4wvIGY
> 
> Qui-Gon has been a jerk in this fic, but hopefully it starts to become clear WHY he is such a jerk. Also Obi-Wan is still figuring out who he is.
> 
> **WARNING** : frank discussion of sexual issues.

_Now you're just somebody that I used to know._

\--Walter Andre E. De Backer, Luiz Floriano Bonfa, “Somebody That I Used to Know”

Qui-Gon Jinn scowled at his datapad. His calendar declared today was the day he cleaned out his padawan room. Anakin was finally starting to flourish as an initiate and would not need the safe refuge. Obi-Wan was apparently doing well as a knight if the letter from Her Royal Highness the Queen of Alderaan was any indication. He had made the mistake of talking about growing some houseplants and setting up a new meditation space one time too many in front of Tahl and she had loudly demanded he actually do so, now that he had the room, and no one was going to be moving back in. His therapist was concerned that he was avoiding the issue and refusing to clear out the space was a refusal to accept reality. When he had complained to his physical therapist that his mind healer had no clue what it was like to have to bend over after getting a lightsaber through the chest, _that_ insufferable asshole had cheerfully assigned it to his rehab calendar and told him not to cheat with the Force unless he was lifting more than ten kilograms.

 _Conspiring bastards_.

There was no getting out of it. He walked up to the door, opened it, flicked on the light and took it all in. There wasn’t as much stuff as he thought there would be.

He started with the bed, using the Force to strip the blankets, sheets and pillowcases. The bedclothes were Jedi standard; he had meant to have someone take Anakin get a more personalized blanket, to give him a feeling of home and ownership in the room but hadn’t managed it before the boy had been moved out. The bed and mattress were standard issue from the Quartermaster, single adult, extra-long. He remembered Obi-Wan fussing about whether he should bother to upgrade for the few extra inches in length and give up valuable floor space when his final growth spurt had remained elusive. Xan had had no such debate, but then he had managed to fit a queen-sized mattress in this tiny room. Of course, that only worked when they had both put their desks in the study.

He tapped at his datapad, debating whether or not to return the frame and mattress to the Quartermaster or to keep it for guests. Was he expecting guests? Was he still expecting Anakin to come back and visit? He put off the decision for another day.

He turned to the desk. Anakin had managed to cover the entire work surface with odds and ends, pieces of broken machines, intact broken machines, and a variety of tools salvaged from his and Obi-Wan’s toolkits within days of his former padawan moving out. Qui-Gon had soon realized that Obi-Wan must have been doing _something_ to keep this flood of mechanical trash under control, either by regularly getting rid of it or by preventing Anakin from acquiring it in the first place. Apparently, the Initiate Masters had refused to let the boy take his hoard because it was all still there. Qui-Gon sat on the desk chair and sorted through the piles, some to recycling, some to trash, some to go back in his tool set. He assumed Obi-Wan had gotten a new set by now, and he very much suspected some parts may have walked off in Anakin’s tinkering adventures, so hopefully he could cobble together one complete kit from the previous two.

It was an amazing assortment of junk. Broken light cubes, bits of wire, mouse droids from the Temple’s own fleet that had been taken apart and not quite put back together. He was starting to get a good idea about what had happened to the toaster that had gone missing from his kitchen. In addition to bread crumbs, there were pencil shavings everywhere in a variety of colors. If he recalled correctly, Obi-Wan had had a quality, hand-cranked pencil sharpener mounted on his desk for when he indulged in his hobbies. Had it been detonated at some point? He made it to yet another pile and discovered that yes, yes it had. Or at least it had been dismantled and broken down to its component parts, but not apparently before it had been emptied. He struggled for a moment to put it back together before realizing too many of the inner workings had been bent, stripped or removed and tossed it into the trash. He recalled that it had been expensive for Obi-Wan to purchase on a junior padawan stipend, and that he had raved about it. Fortunately, as an adult a replacement would be much more affordable if the young man actually needed one. Really, knighthood should be keeping him too busy for coloring.

He opened a desk drawer and found a rainbow assortment of teeny, tiny pencil stubs. Apparently, Anakin had found that pencil sharpener particularly fascinating and had tested it out on every pencil Obi-Wan had, including writing, drawing, charcoal and coloring pencils, and probably a fountain pen. He remembered tossing out the empty colored pencil box and the lid had proclaimed it had been a set of ninety-six. The sheer number of stubs in the bottom of the drawer attested that this number was not an exaggeration. Qui-Gon had a bad feeling that somewhere in this room there must be an equally large pile of pile of pencil shavings to correspond with that industry. He was disturbed that the pile was not visible anywhere, such as in a trash can.

The next drawer contained the box the pencil sharpener had originally come in. He knew from previous snooping that Obi-Wan had kept spare credits in this box, a change jar for when he was saving up for some small indulgence. It was empty. Qui-Gon hoped Obi-Wan had remembered to take it with him, and this was likely as he didn’t recall Anakin coming into any cold, hard cash.

The final drawer contained an old half-used pad of art paper with new scribblings on it in many familiar colors, a lower level initiate reading text, and a lined composition book from the Quartermaster with pages and pages of copied alphabets in Basic, Huttese, and other scripts. Most of the handwritten letters were in a rather messy scrawl and it took Qui-Gon a moment to realize that Obi-Wan must have been teaching Anakin how to write and to develop his penmanship. While this wasn’t a necessary skill for a Jedi Knight, legible penmanship could be very useful and elegant handwriting was considered a prized skill in many worlds, both sophisticated and not. Looking again, he could see the careful, neat writing demonstrating each letter, and later stringing together sentences in both print and script along the top of the page, followed by Anakin’s attempts to copy the forms below. The boy’s efforts were better on some tries, worse on others. The lesson was useful, fairly difficult if the child had relied on clunky data pads his whole life, and most important, a quiet activity that had kept Anakin occupied while Qui-Gon was still recovering. He turned more pages to find longer sentences, and even non-Basic phrases in Alderaani or Mandalorian. The Huttese phrases were particularly quirky has Obi-Wan no doubt struggled to find something proper and appropriate to write. Too much of conversational Huttese was curses. The last third of the book was blank where the lessons apparently stopped, but the last few pages were filled, not with the simple, neat writing and attempts to copy, but with beautiful calligraphy. As much as Qui-Gon dismissed Obi-Wan’s hobbies, even he could not deny his skills in that medium. Either to entertain or entice Anakin into the lesson, Obi-Wan had gotten out a good fountain pen (now possibly fountain shrapnel) and the good ink and had written out a few pages of careful, elegant sentences.

_My name is Anakin Skywalker, son of Shmi Skywalker, and I am nine years old. I am on Coruscant to study the ways of the Jedi, and my master is Qui-Gon Jinn._

It was dated two days before Obi-Wan’s eviction. For a moment he wondered if it had been difficult to write.

He put the study books and the art pad into a separate box for Anakin, then moved on to the bureau. Unsurprisingly, it was empty of clothes, both Obi-Wan’s and Anakin’s. Surprisingly, he found the rainbow mountain of pencil shavings in the last drawer. It was as massive as he had feared, and he requested a vac-bot from the Quartermaster.

There was a metal grid on the wall with clips along the bars where Obi-Wan had displayed some flat pics of friends or occasional print outs of images taken or bought over the course of their travels. The images of his friends were missing, he had likely taken these with him, but the mission pics were still there. Some had been knocked askew, bent at the corners, or put back in sideways or upside down where Anakin had investigated them. An image of the Royal Palace in Aldera, a seascape of an alien ocean with a lilac tint, a view of the Jedi Temple taken from the air (obviously from a tourist trap in one of the mid-levels), a handbill advertisement for Dex’s Diner (that Anakin had clearly colored in), and a view of a planet taken from orbit, clearly a stock image from a planetary database. The caption listed it as Stewjon, but Qui-Gon was not familiar with it, and was fairly certain they had never gone there.

The padawan room did have a small window with several potted succulents, bred to handle long periods without water. A quick scan with the Force revealed them to be long dead. He tipped the dry soil into the trash. The pots were plain, but functional, so he returned them to the now empty sash. Clearly a year without a caregiver was just too long. The nightstand was covered with similar debris as the desk. Anakin had taken over every flat surface that was easily reached. A few more pencil stubs were found here, and what he suspected was a disassembled camping lantern, and a data reader the Obi-Wan had from his initiate days. To his surprise, it turned on right away. The log indicated it had been wiped shortly after their return to the Temple and updated with readings, stories, and lessons for young initiates. Basic history of the Jedi, geography of Coruscant, architecture of the Temple and purposes for select rooms, the Jedi Code for younger readers (focusing more on emotion and knowledge than passion), stories of historic Jedi. Despite his complaints about storybooks, Anakin seemed to access this last one most. He powered it down and put the reader into the box for the boy.

The bookcase was next. The _Lightsaber Handbook_ that Anakin had mentioned was indeed there and yes, Obi-Wan had put in extensive annotations. It was somewhat surprising that Obi-Wan hadn’t taken it with him, if he had expected to take his trials, but if he had been running short on space, he might have put lightsaber mechanics review as a lower priority, considering he had just built a new weapon. His personal datapads and his larger data processor were missing from the shelves and desk, and the entirety of the _Handbook_ was available in electronic format, so Obi-Wan had clearly taken what he thought he might need for his trials, but not what he could easily replace.

There were several gaps in the bookshelf and true to form, Anakin had filled them with odds and ends. A basket of little used toiletries, mostly colognes and hair products for rare nights out with friends, had been emptied. (Qui-Gon had discovered they had been moved when Anakin dropped a bottle of what was very nice smelling cologne when one’s fresher wasn’t marinated in it). The empty basket was now filled with filthy strips of cloth, stained in a rainbow assortment of mechanical grease and other industrial lubricants. The size of the fingerprints in said grease implicated Anakin, and after unfolding the fabric he was able to identify several adult size padawan tabards, sashes, and socks. Qui-Gon supposed that when moving out, pants and tunics must have taken priority, and whether he passed or not, Obi-Wan would not need quite that many accessories in his final months before his trials. Under the circumstances, he might have opted to take his few civilian clothes instead. Soiled beyond redemption, the rags were dumped in the trash. Qui-Gon looked back on the bookshelf, taking in what was there and trying to figure out what was missing. He was fairly certain that one large open space had been taken up by a large metal box, almost like a tool chest, though he could not recall what Obi-Wan had kept in it, other than it wasn’t contraband. (He certainly hadn’t had any condoms in his padawan room so far as Qui-Gon had ever determined). There were also a few small books and one very large one missing, but their contents were not known. Historical texts he would want to study for his trials?

The rest of the books were an eclectic collection, mostly about subjects best presented in that form as opposed to datapad, usually for the Temple’s various elective courses.

_Navigating by Starlight: Figuring Out Where You Are When Your Hyperdrive Dies_

This one was definitely useful. Qui-Gon had had his own copy as a padawan.

_Calligraphy: Art in Letters_

He peeked inside, admiring the variety of fonts displayed. In the back he found a few loose sheets stuffed in where Obi-Wan had been practicing, probably years ago.

_Brothers in the Force: Monastic Traditions of the Jedi_

This one gave him pause. Had Obi-Wan been planning on becoming a Jedi monk if he failed his trials? It wasn’t unheard of. Though there were far fewer monks now than in centuries past, and the role once played by Jedi monks and nuns had been largely supplanted by the Service Corps, there were a few monastic temples, mostly populated by Jedi who retired due to age or injury, or had determined that Knighthood was no longer the correct path, but had not been tempted by the Dark or still felt the Jedi way was the right choice for them. Curious, he picked up the book, leafing through it. Rather than focusing on the practices and lives of modern Jedi monks and nuns, the book actually focused on the traditional arts of the Jedi and their cultural roots among the stationary monks as opposed to the traveling knights. It was beautifully illustrated. There were additional flimsy notes in the back of this book as well and Qui-Gon realized it must be a printed text used in some of the Monastic Studies elective courses, or more specifically, the serious ones.

He thought back over his different padawans. Feemor had been ever the jolly young soul and he could well imagine his first padawan retired as a happy-go-lucky brother, unless he found more intimate companionship. With his sunny personality it could go either way. When Feemor came of age, he had opted to study beer brewing with the monks at the Correlian Temple, had a grand time of it, and had thrown a traditional brew tasting party upon his return. He had gone with several of his age-mates and between his friends (and a new girlfriend) there had been sufficient bottles left that Qui-Gon had also been able to enjoy it. Xanatos had opted to take the traditional trip to Alderaan to study wine making (which he considered classier than beer and felt knowledge of wine was more useful to a diplomat anyway). Xan had returned with several exes of both genders, and several bottles of a fairly drinkable white and a red that smelled of vinegar. The latter they used to make _nerf au vin_ , and the former was gone within days. Xan had not liked to admit mediocrity.

Obi-Wan had opted to take _Manuscript Illumination_. This contributed nothing to the larder, but the craft did require trips to the art supply store a few shops down from _Dex’s Diner_ every so often, so he supposed it wasn’t all that bad. And it did seem fitting with Obi-Wan’s personality, even if the skills were not all that practical to the modern Jedi. He tried to remember for a moment _why_ copying old texts letter by letter and coloring in silly doodles had been encouraged by the curriculum committee, much less considered remotely interesting to his third padawan, but then Obi-Wan had never been much of a drinker, even when off duty. And now that he thought about it more, he seemed to recall telling Obi-Wan he could not afford the time away from missions to take one of the traveling classes and whatever he took should be completed in the Temple. That left _Woodworking and Furniture Making, Embroidery and Beadwork, Chanting and Choir, Weaving and Sewing_ , and _Manuscript Illumination_. Given the options he supposed it wasn’t a terrible choice, and Obi-Wan had already learned how to mend clothing. Considering the mess Anakin had left with his tinkering, he probably should be grateful Obi-Wan had not opted for the woodshop. And really, it hadn’t been practical for Obi-Wan to be away for a three-week course, even if it was an opportunity for social development. Besides, Obi-Wan had been far too young when Qui-Gon told him to pick a class and get it over with, too young even for S-training, which was a pre-requisite for the traveling classes.

He sat down heavily on the stripped bed. Feemor and Xan had both loved the experience of being away from both their master and the Temple. It was a small concession the Jedi offered their young people, a time to grow socially in a semi-supervised environment just as they were finally ready to explore their sexuality as adults. He had not let Obi-Wan do the same. Instead he had told the then sixteen-year-old to get the requirement out of the way while he was gone and be done with it. He had been upset then at other things, there had been a bad mission or three, Xan’s long shadow was still a thorn in his side, Obi-Wan’s betrayal at Melida-Daan was still sharp, and the two of them had had one of the few epic fights that they had ever had during Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. The Council had finally intervened, he could admit now that his own lack of serenity should never have been tolerated as long as it had, and he had been sent back to Trell (his least favorite planet) to get his attitude adjusted. He had most certainly _not_ cooperated that time, and he supposed he really should have for Obi-Wan’s sake. Maybe if he had he would have been willing to trust the boy on a three-week retreat, assuming he had been trained and was of age. Not that it mattered when he as only sixteen.

Qui-Gon paused, his mind suddenly catching on that one detail. Obi-Wan had only been sixteen. He had not asked but demanded Obi-Wan fulfill his Monastic Studies requirement at that age, two full years before he would even be of age to attend what all the masters jokingly referred to as Advanced S-training. Had he already been subconsciously planning to avoid Obi-Wan’s S-training, even then? Had he been trying to remove a temptation or prevent Obi-Wan from getting any leverage in a future argument? The Tahl in his head told him to write it down to discuss with his therapist. He did so, grumbling, but was troubled all the same.

It was very possible he had some subconscious motivations. That had been a very turbulent time in their relationship. Obi-Wan had been doing well academically, even if much of his classes were done remotely on long hyperspace jags between missions. His extra time spent as an initiate, as well as being on restricted duty after Melida-Daan had actually put him well ahead in his classes and he had in fact finished his general education requirements the year before and had been issued a diploma by the Coruscant Department of Minor Education. But his status as a Jedi had been much more tenuous. He had still been on probation with the Council and with Qui-Gon. His status had limited the types of missions Jinn could take him on, and they had both found it stifling. Obi-Wan was anxious about whether the Council would ever accept him as a senior padawan. Qui-Gon was dreading what new responsibilities Obi-Wan would be assigned when he couldn’t trust him with the ones he had. And all of it was brewing in the boiling stew of hormones that could only be found in a sixteen-year-old human male whose gonads reached peak maturity years before the brain. Soon it would start. The questions, the pestering. The flirtation and fascination with adult pleasures still forbidden. They were barely holding on with all the problems they already had, but then Obi-Wan had to get a damn growth spurt, and puberty had come with a vengeance: body odor, body hair, cracking voices and awkward crushes. And all too soon it would be Obi-Wan trying to slink his way into his master’s pants and his master’s bed and toying with his master’s heart and sanity.

It was little wonder he had completely lost his serenity that day in the salle when one of Obi-Wan’s agemates had made some crude innuendo and the boy had laughed. Sexual tension was the last Sith-damned thing they had needed in their relationship, much less distraction. The boy was on _probation_ for Force’s sake, he was there to study and learn, not make crude jokes. He could remember the look of bleak terror on the boy’s face as he put the fear of inadequacy and probation violation into his soul. He probably would have ranted longer, but Yoda had actually used the Force to shut him up and had dragged him off and sent his apprentice away. Thus, began his second forced stay with the renowned therapists of Trell and Obi-Wan’s long term pre-occupation with coloring. He supposed it was better than the pre-occupation with sex he had been expecting.

Except that now that he thought about it, that expected pre-occupation had never seemed to happen. He was aware that Obi-Wan did experience the adolescent annoyance of wet dreams, though their busy mission schedule seemed to keep those to a minimum, or he had found some other means to deal with them. (He swore Xan used them to _mark his territory_ on every damn planet they visited, while Feemor had cheerfully gotten into the habit of jerking off before bed, at least until he came of age and mutual gratification became an option). Obi-Wan never flirted with him, never made a dirty joke, he never even found a stash of dirty pictures on his datapad or in his room. (Master Dooku had found his own ‘personal gallery’ once and had chided him for its tastelessness, then took him to the Coruscant Museum of Art to enjoy quality nudes. It was embarrassing as hell, but he really did get quite a lot of use from the art book he picked up in the gift shop).

But Obi-Wan had not done so. He was never caught peering into washrooms (Xan), watching pornographic holos (Xan), keeping pornographic prints (Xan and Feemor), or having loud shower sex with a friend when Qui-Gon was home (surprisingly Feemor, but he was at least of age and hadn’t heard Qui-Gon come in). Xan had once managed to hold, if not an orgy, at least some sort of multi-partner event in their apartment and had not cleaned it sufficiently by the time he had returned, and to smooth over the rudeness had attempted (and succeeded in) seducing his master in Qui-Gon’s own bedroom.

But Obi-Wan hadn’t. In fact, one time when he had left eighteen-year-old Obi-Wan alone and unsupervised for three days, he’d come home to find no evidence of a sex romp, but to Obi-Wan doing his damn coloring in the common room instead of at his desk. Considering his predecessor and Qui-Gon’s expectations, the master hadn’t had the heart to chastise him for his lack of focus (the boy had been coloring _and_ watching a holonet broadcast) and he could smell dinner simmering on the stove. Obi-Wan it seemed was content to remain a child. Qui-Gon was too relieved to be concerned. Which was why when Obi-Wan finally had the audacity to ask about his S-training it had felt like such a betrayal.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, uncharacteristically forcing himself back into the present. For whatever reason Obi-Wan enjoyed his little hobby and it clearly hadn’t stopped him from being knighted. He obviously had gotten a lot out of this class and would probably want the book, along with the other art manuals on the shelf returned to him if he had already bothered to keep them this long. One by one, he picked up each book and put it in the carton. As he pulled the last group of art and calligraphy books away from the shelf, a small book that had been behind them fell over from where it had been hidden. _Paydirt_. Here was some contraband at last. He picked up the small, cloth-bound book and turned it over.

_Dream Interpretation: What is the Force Trying to Tell You?_

Dream interpretation? His padawan had books on this nonsense and chose to hide it?

The Tahl in his head made a sound of derision. Obviously as Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan, losing focus on the tangible and the Living Force to navel gaze at one’s own dreams was, if not contraband, not something his apprentice would care to share. He opened the book, part of him still half-expecting to have finally found Obi-Wan’s stash of nude pictures hidden in a book he knew his master would never borrow to read. Instead, he found a note on the flyleaf, written with a fountain pen. The handwriting was not Obi-Wan’s, but it was familiar.

_Padawan Kenobi,_

_Difficult times to face you have, but strong in heart you are. Prudent and wise are those who prepare for future, even future that come to pass does not. If friendly ear you need, two I have. Extra large they are. Pass difficult times will. Shine again sun will. Book may help, friends will too. Alone you are not._

_Your great-grandmaster I am, in heart and the Force,_

_Yoda_

Qui-Gon had always deemed Obi-Wan’s dreams a distraction, something to cloud his focus and had voiced that opinion more than once, so he wouldn’t have been surprised if Obi-Wan hadn’t gotten much use of the book. But even he could feel his former padawan’s essence in the small volume, particularly on the flyleaf, as if he had read the small note over and over, had run his fingertips over the letters, over years. Qui-Gon had never seen this book before.

_What was Yoda able to do that you were not?_

The inscription was dated, unsurprisingly from that turbulent year when Obi-Wan had been sixteen and if he recalled correctly, when he had been left in the joint care of Master Yoda and then Knight Bilaba. The book itself wasn’t terribly useful to a padawan preparing for Trials, but it was of obvious sentimental value. Qui-Gon wondered if Obi-Wan had simply forgotten it in the rush to leave.

_Prudent are those who prepare for the future._

He wondered what Yoda had meant. What preparation could Obi-Wan have been making as an immature sixteen-year-old, too anxious about his probation to fully focus on his lessons? Both Yoda and Depa had been silent on the matter of his padawan during Qui-Gon’s enforced stay (he technically hadn’t been committed, just ordered to go) and Obi-Wan’s progress reports upon his return had been minimal and clerical. No discipline issues (apparently, he _had_ talked some sense into the boy), no health issues (though he was still on the scawny side), adequate marks in all classes. Fine marks in _Manuscript Illumination_ (which _had_ been completed) and a recommendation to take more studio art classes, which he had ignored as an incredulous waste of time. He had returned to find a quiet, compliant, almost model padawan had replaced the Obi-Wan he had left behind. He didn’t really know why _he_ had had to go to therapy to accomplish that, but whatever Depa and Yoda had done had worked. In fact, the only sign of trouble from that whole messy period had been a single Council Communique that had been so odd he still remembered it verbatim.

_Jinn, what the actual kriff? The damn Alderaani Embassy is here, what the HELL did you do?_

He was never sure if it had been sent by Mace or Eller (Yoda also used that account but his syntax was more obvious), and he never did figure out what it had been about. Obi-Wan hadn’t known anything and even Bail Antilles was in the dark, so eventually he decided it wasn’t that important. But as he thought about it now, his mind recalled Her Majesty’s recent letter and oddly, the note on the flyleaf. Something had happened, but as for so many dusty memories in this room, there was nothing to be done about it now.

He turned to the closet, wondering how much Obi-Wan had left behind and how much crap Anakin had stuffed in there. He opened the door.

Anakin, it seemed had left the closet alone. It was a curious oversight for a boy who had not only made himself at home, but master of his domain in every other part of the room. He wondered if perhaps Obi-Wan had deemed it off limits while Anakin and Obi-Wan’s belongings were sharing the space. There were a few more clothing items hanging here. Obi-Wan’s bathrobe, his slippers, his second pair of boots, pajamas. An extra padawan robe, worn and comfortable, but no longer neat enough for diplomatic missions. Cold weather gear. Civilian shoes and a very nice charcoal tunic and pants that were just Jedi enough to feel familiar but no so much so as to be obvious. Extra survival equipment (including Obi-Wan’s full toolkit, apparently, he _had_ made this closet forbidden), rebreather cartridges, emergency lights, lightsaber power packs and an extra, fully stocked utility belt. He had taught the ~~boy~~ young man to be prepared.

Most of the important items had been cleaned out when Obi-Wan had packed, but there was quite a bit of stuff on the top shelf, including the missing metal box from the bookcase. Not trusting his ability to lift something of unknown weight above his wound, he lifted the (yes, quite heavy) box with the Force and set it down on the bed. Something clinked inside like glass jars. He opened the latch and looked inside. Still not contraband. Art supplies. Fountain pens, inks, brushes, water color paints, elaborately wrought stamps and ink pads. Rulers, compasses and tools for mapping out lines. Scissors and cutting tools in various sizes. Adhesives. Fine powders in rich or iridescent colors. More drawing pencils. Ten years of art supplies in one small box. Obi-Wan clearly took his hobby seriously, and with Anakin underfoot he had been wise to keep these items out of reach. Qui-Gon dreaded to think what the child would have done with proper ink. Next to the box was a small stack of art pads. The commercial covers indicated they were for charcoal, ink, water colors. All had missing pages, but as for the art there was none to be seen. Underneath the art pads was a single, thick art instruction book that had been removed from the bookshelf.

_Drawing the Humanoid Form_

He peeked inside, wondering how it compared with Master Dooku’s definition of classy nudes. It was surprisingly technical. A large section was devoted to faces. There were quite a large number of anatomical drawings, showing how bone, muscle and sinew came together with skin to create the visible form. And yes, there were nudes in it, for instructional purposes. Still, this didn’t have the feel of an illicit porn stash. It felt academic, with no more or less attention given than the book on landscapes or the one on drawing non-humanoid life forms. He had the distinct impression it had only been moved to this shelf because Ani was too young to be snooping in such things.

The last item on the shelf was all the way in the back and very dusty. There were smears that corresponded to Obi-Wan’s fingers, but they had begun to fill in with more dust. Whatever it was, it rattled as he drew it forward. Not wanting to put the filthy thing on the bed, he dropped it on the desk and wiped away the worst of the grime from what was up to thirteen years in the back of a closet. If _this_ was Obi-Wan’s buried secrets, he hadn’t visited them often. He opened the box. Sitting right on top was a ribbon. Not on display, it was in fact upside down, as if tossed in and forgotten. He lifted it out to see the rest of the items were achievement pins, ribbons and tokens, not displayed with pride but hidden as if something shameful.

_Were these Xan’s?_

Xan had always taken great pride in his achievements and would proudly display the resultant ribbons and tokens in the common room until they were replaced by newer counterparts, at which point the older awards were moved to the top shelf of his bookcase for display. When he had finally cleaned this same room after Xanatos left, he had found tiny nails driven into the shelf to hang the small awards from. Obi-Wan had used those same nails to hang drying paint brushes, but they were gone now. He suspected Anakin had pulled most of them out to repurpose them. He closed his eyes, trying to remember how many awards there had been. Twenty? Twenty-five tokens? Three to four ribbons? Two pins that Xan wore to formal events? He knew that his second apprentice took too much pride in winning and telling all and sundry what he had done. He should have nipped that pride in the bud when he had the chance, but he hadn’t, not wanting to dim the joy of a child he had known still missed his parents and later not wanting to stifle the confidence of such a promising padawan. Qui-Gon had been so certain he would graduate into an excellent knight.

He had not repeated these same mistakes with Obi-Wan. When the boy quietly mentioned at dinner that he had earned a token in his astronavigation course for excellence, Qui-Gon had told him that meant his efforts in that field were adequate, but how had he done in Huttese, which the boy had been struggling with. He had never seen the token and Obi-Wan had never brought up such awards again.

He looked down at the box, sifting through it. The years embossed on the tokens indicated these were _not_ Xanatos’s (and now that he thought of it, Xan’s were still in the back of _his_ closet, probably in a similarly dusty box. Had Obi-Wan found the bad memories he had been too guilty to part with and taken it as an example of how to deal with pride in accomplishment?) Quietly, almost meditatively, he laid them out on the desk in chronological order. There were several tokens from his initiate days, top marks, one for sabre drills, less as he got older and became more desperate to find a master. There was a large gap between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, where his probationary status would have made instructors reluctant to single him out for awards, though Qui-Gon did recall getting several notices about solid academic and athletic work during this time period. Curiously, the tokens did start appearing again at age sixteen, for all that Obi-Wan had remained on probation until he made senior padawan at eighteen, two months late due to missions. Now that he thought on it, though the boy’s transgression was grave, five years of probation seemed a very harsh punishment now. He wondered why there had been the change, if there had been some loosening of Obi-Wan’s restrictions while he had been away, or if the masters simply forgot after three years what the boy had done.

The tokens continued through his nineteenth year, after which point he had met all requirements for a basic university degree (and was again issued a diploma, this time from the Coruscant Planetary University Jedi Educational Program). If Obi-Wan had failed his trials, he still would have had his university degree to fall back on if he opted for a civilian life. Many padawans didn’t bother.

He turned to the ribbons next. Unsurprisingly, none were from the annual unarmed combat competitions. Obi-Wan was neither large enough nor nimble enough to compete at the top level in those arts, though he could defend himself in a fight. He had, however, earned ribbons for placing in the top tier in the annual saber tournaments, two at the junior padawan level (at age sixteen and seventeen, before that his probation would have prevented his participation) and three at the senior padawan level, one of which was for first place, for all the Qui-Gon didn’t remember it. This was remarkable enough on its own, but Obi-Wan had only competed in the tournament for four or five years. At some point, when he was twenty-two or twenty-three, the Battle Master had moved him up to the Junior Knight competition. At the time, he had assumed it was because Obi-Wan’s age mates and competitors had been facing their trials and it was socially awkward to have Obi-Wan compete against younger and younger padawans. But there it was, yet another ribbon, the one thrown in on top, indicating he had placed third at least once at the Junior Knight level while still at padawan. Qui-Gon had stopped attending the competitions long before this point, accustomed to using his own judgement to assess his padawan’s skill and readiness.

Finally, there were the pins, presented annually at a small ceremony to Jedi who had made some significant accomplishment or achievement. They were one of the few adornments Jedi would wear, and even then only on the most formal of occasions or in similar ceremonies. The last time he had even attended a ceremony he was still Xan’s master. Feemor had earned one for saber-work, as had Xan, who had earned an additional one for diplomacy. (The young man had had a gift for persuasion for all that he chose to use it for furthering his own self-interests). Recipients and nominees were informed of their status when invited to the ceremony. A few years ago, Qui-Gon himself had been nominated for his work on a particularly thorny negotiation he had done between the Trade Federation and the Hutts, though he had declined to attend and had not been the honoree. Obi-Wan had never mentioned being invited and it was apparent he had not attended as all three pins in the box had never been taken out of the protective pouches they came in, much less been pinned to his tabard. One was for sabre work. One was for diplomacy. He had no idea which mission that might have been for. The third was for art and diplomacy, not a double award, but for some achievement that had required excellence in both disciplines. Again, he had no idea what mission or other had earned him that, though Obi-Wan had made use of his calligraphic skills on several missions, so he suspected it was for something along those lines. His padawan had never told him, much less worn the pins.

_He killed a Sith, how much more ready did you think he would get?_

The Tahl in his head had a point. Other masters had borne witness to his padawan’s performance. Other masters had deemed him ready. But in his own mind Obi-Wan was not ready. How much was actually Obi-Wan falling short and how much was instead Qui-Gon’s unwillingness to see that readiness? There were certainly more awards here than Xan had ever earned, and he’d been so sure his second apprentice would pass. He put the ribbons, pins and tokens back into the box and briefly wondered if anyone had nominated Obi-Wan for killing a Sith and if the young man had attended the ceremony. Would that pin have been tossed into this lonely, dusty box too?

That seemed to be everything. Twelve years of apprenticeship reduced to two cartons of clothes, books, odds and ends. He knew Obi-Wan had taken his scant toiletries when he had left, and there was probably a caff mug or two in the kitchenette he should put in as well, but he couldn’t help but think something was missing. He used the Force to check under the mattress, but still found no contraband. His brain tickled. There was definitely something. He tied off the trash bag when it occurred to him. The trash can in the room was missing. That’s why Anakin must have put all those pencil shavings in the drawer. Where had it gone?

He tested the weight of the trash bag and immediately decided to request assistance for all that it made him feel as old as Yoda. Padawans with infractions too minor for eviction were enlisted to help the elderly, infirm or merely overwhelmed with a variety of tasks. Taking out trash was relatively low risk, but he would try to arrange for Delivery to help with Obi-Wan’s and Anakin’s belongings.

Satisfied with the work for the day, he stepped into his study for a pen, wanting to actually label each carton to avoid mix ups. As soon as he turned on the light it became apparent exactly how long it had been since he had been in this room.

There was a pillow and a stack of neatly folded blankets where Obi-Wan must have left them after waking up on his last day as Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan. The missing trash can was also here, filled beyond capacity in the far corner, and there was a ruled flimsy notepad on his desk where Obi-Wan had clearly left it. His former padawan had certainly been computer savvy, but when he needed to track many different details or needed to organize for some large task, he preferred writing things out by hand, at least initially. Qui-Gon picked up the flimsy pad; it was filled in with page after page of endless lists, detailing his efforts to fulfill the competing interests of Anakin’s training, his own studies and Qui-Gon’s care. His padawan had kept careful notes so Qui-Gon would know what part of Ani’s education had already been covered, what medications and treatments were given at what times, what foods had been provided (to both himself and Anakin) and what lessons he had managed to review for his trials in between caring for a child and an invalid. Qui-Gon was exhausted just reading it. Obi-Wan would never have been able to ready himself for his trials under these conditions. He knew _he_ wouldn’t have been able to.

With a jolt he noticed one repeating entry on the night duties list: _check that Master Jinn is still breathing_. Over and over with times listed well into the small hours of the morning. No wonder Obi-Wan hadn’t protested his eviction. Living in the barracks could only have been an improvement. He hadn’t considered his insistence on recuperating at home would have put this kind of burden on the young man.

On the last page used, the list had clearly been interrupted by the Temple Guard’s knock on the door. The list had been crossed out with one noticeably crooked line and beneath it his former padawan had left him a note he had only found now, twelve months later.

_Master Jinn,_

_I apologize for the mess, the guard insists I must leave quickly._

_1\. Take your meds at fifth hour, midday, dinner and tenth hour. They are sorted in the pill box._

He had found the pillbox on his bedside table the day Obi-Wan left.

 _2\. Th_ _ere is frozen food in the chiller for you and Anakin to eat for dinner_.

He had found the frozen food several days later, after the bread ran out because all he could prepare in his condition, or rather direct Anakin to make, were sandwiches.

_3\. Please give these books to ~~Bant~~ Master Turvis. I was not able to do so before I had to leave._

He did not know who Master Turvis was.

_4\. There are items in my closet that Anakin should not be allowed to get into on the top shelf. Again, I apologize, I did not have time to remove them._

_5._ _Please have someone remove the trash can’s contents for you. It is not safe for you to lift and the guard is insisting we leave now._

_I’m sorry I failed you, Master._

_\--Obi-Wan_

The last line was uncharacteristically hard to read, as if Obi-Wan’s normally steady hand had been shaking. Beside the pad were two ornate books, and a red and black river stone.

Qui-Gon Jinn sat down heavily at his desk. The stone he remembered well, having given it to Obi-Wan for his thirteenth birthday. He had known his padawan had carried it everywhere with him when he was still an adolescent and Qui-Gon wasn’t quite sure when he had stopped. There had been more than one incident where one or both of them had been strip-searched or had been divested of some or all of their clothing, so he had assumed the stone would have been lost at some point. He reached for it, unsurprised to still feel the Force emanating from it. He picked it up and held it in his hand, closing his eyes. He could feel his former apprentice in the stone, his years of handling it leaving an impression even _he_ could feel. There were a variety of emotions that came through. Confusion. Hurt. Futility. Abandonment. Loss. A last jumble of Obi-Wan’s feelings as he put that stone down for the last time. Was he trying to send a message about how Qui-Gon’s actions had made him feel? Did he just not want the rock anymore? He stared at the stone in his hand and felt one more emotion: unworthiness. With Anakin succeeding him (r _eplacing him_ retorted the Tahl in his head), did he think he no longer had a right to it? He looked back out the door toward the padawan room. He had only taken the one bag. He had left the rest of his life behind. He had apologized for failing, though it was unclear what he had felt he had failed at. His upcoming trials? Meeting his duties as a padawan? _Not disappearing into the ether when his presence was no longer convenient?_ Tahl in real life had actually said that last one in a therapy session.

He had admitted that Obi-Wan was a stranger now, but he was starting to see he had been a stranger then too, living not just in Qui-Gon’s shadow, but in Xanatos’s as well, the dim making it too hard to see him as a unique individual. Qui-Gon put down the rock before it could depress him further and turned his attention to the books. Both were leather-bound volumes, the covers tooled for ornamentation along the back, front and spine. There were no titles on the outside, but were inscribed with symbols of the Jedi, the Republic and the Temple. These books were no doubt valuable, and Qui-Gon wondered who Obi-Wan had borrowed them from, perhaps this Master Turvis. He opened the slimmer one, a dark teal color with cream pages. A piece of flimsy fell out, and Qui-Gon realized it was a grade assessment for Obi-Wan’s work in _Manuscript Illumination_ (apparently taught by Master Turvis, mystery solved). He looked in the book further and realized this must have been the book Obi-Wan had made in the class. Clear, clean letters, not yet the calligraphy he would develop later, had been used to carefully write out a few short pieces about Jedi life: the Jedi Code in both short and long forms, the Padawans Vows, the Knights Vows, and a fable told to the creche children about choosing lightsaber crystals. There were several pages that had been carefully illustrated, as well as the first letter of each section, and the front and back contained additional classic monastic motifs that had probably been studied in the class itself.

It would never have been mistaken for a classic manuscript (for one thing, the Coruscant skyline had featured in one illustration), but it had a certain charm and was surprisingly sophisticated for a sixteen-year-old. The grade assessment was glowing and there was a specific note encouraging his padawan to attend meetings with the Illumination Guild that met monthly to show their work and hone their techniques. He wondered whether Obi-Wan had ever done so, and if he had been the only padawan there.

When he picked up the larger book, a rich, dark brown and more elaborately tooled, he felt a jolt of Force energy. A strong memory was imprinted on the volume. He could see Obi-Wan standing in the padawan room, stuffing his clothes into his pack, then his data reader, then this book and not being able to fit it in. The young man had made a frustrated noise and pulled the book and reader out, knowing he would have to choose one or the other. He had stared at them both, breath hitching, before repacking the datapad and carrying both books into the office. The perspective was strange, Obi-Wan looked ridiculously tall and was clearly distressed and as the memory shifted to seeing the book in this room, on this desk, he realized the imprinted memory was Anakin’s, not Obi-Wan’s. Anakin, ever the curious child, had poured over this book, wondering why it had been so important to Obi-Wan, but his small fingers had not been able to open the ornate latch. Instead, the boy had traced all the lines and ridges on the cover, then had put the book back, knowing only that the item was something his predecessor had valued.

Qui-Gon shook off the vision and looked down at the book. He also tried the latch, quickly realizing it required a gentle pulse of Force to open it. He had seen such devices before, particularly in some of the old parchment and vellum books deep in the library, though this device looked more modern. Once he knew what it was, the lock opened easily and he lifted the cover to find it was another illustrated volume, but in much finer calligraphy. This one contained another full version of the Jedi Code, but with more sophisticated ornamentation, following by poems, excerpts and sagas about historic Jedi and notable events. Each poem had a beautiful, full page illustration. Some were written in both Basic and older languages on facing pages, and additional small illustrations were sprinkled throughout. It was a beautiful work of art, but only the first quarter was filled. At the back of the book were extensive loose notes in a familiar hand, detailing plans for the rest of the pages, lists of future poems, thumbnails of illustrations and references for where the classic literature could be found. On the last page, Obi-Wan had put a small paragraph detailing why he had chosen these particular poems, when he had started this volume (he had been nineteen years old), and there was a space for a completion date. He had not included a self-portrait, instead putting in a silhouette of himself in profile. It wasn’t clear if he had drawn it himself or not.

Qui-Gon flipped back to the front of the text. This wasn’t coloring, this was art. His padawan had poured himself into this. Little wonder it had been so difficult to leave behind. He looked back at the note. Qui-Gon suspected Obi-Wan wanted these books to go somewhere safe if he couldn’t take them with him, somewhere they would be appreciated. He could track down this Master Turvis, but Qui-Gon suspected returning these prized possessions would be the better course. He carefully re-latched the larger book, then added both to the rest of Obi-Wan’s library. He reached out to the Force and felt the rightness of the decision.

That only left the trash can. Qui-Gon wondered whether he should just have someone take it to the chute as Obi-Wan had requested, but everything he had found going through his former padawan’s things, and the hard decisions Obi-Wan had been making under duress made him cautious of throwing things away blindly. He approached the can and gave it a light scan with the Force. He could just barely get an impression of urgency and regret. Whatever was here, Obi-Wan had wanted to take it with him, but, had let it go. Hoping there was nothing perishable, he opened the bag. The only smell was paper and dust.

He peered inside and it was immediately apparent why it was so heavy. The bag was full of paper journals. Obi-Wan’s thoughts, feelings, troubles, fears, plans, from throughout his apprenticeship. Thrown into the trash because he couldn’t take it with him. It was obvious now that Obi-Wan never expected he would be allowed back. Had he been expecting to take his trials when he left, or had he been preparing to be turned out on the streets? Had the guards really let him take only one bag? Most evictions were disciplinary in nature, so he supposed they probably did. He looked back into the can. There was an extremely large folder curved along the side. Carefully, he reached inside to pull it out, silently cursing as loose papers fell out. Once he had wrestled it onto the desk, he opened it and was startled to be eye to eye with a very recognizable portrait of Bant. He flipped through the pages (obviously torn from the art pads) and saw faces, places in the Temple, cityscapes of Coruscant, experimenting in different media. Charcoal, ink, watercolor, pencil. Garen, Reeft, Tahl, Dexter, even Master Yoda. People he didn’t know. Places he couldn’t remember. His own face. Lightsaber duels. Garden scenes. Some images were annotated with calligraphy. A few drawings were apparently rough drafts for illustrations in the large book. All of it thrown away, fated to go to the incinerator. Obi-Wan’s entire hidden inner life, left behind, abandoned. His padawan hadn’t just left his master behind, but a huge chunk of himself as well. Should he return it? Should he dispose of it as Obi-Wan had asked? He flipped to the next sheet and found another copy of the first part of the Jedi Code in calligraphy with different borders, as if Obi-Wan were trying to decide which one he liked best.

_There is no emotion._

There was emotion. Too much emotion. He had run the gamut today, his serenity had burned off hours ago, and he was in no condition to be making decisions right now. This trash can had sat here for a year, being ignored. Another few days would make no difference.

Too tired to even attempt meditation, Qui-Gon Jinn opted to lay down for a nap. He was getting better, slowly climbing back from his deathbed, but one of the difficult parts of surviving was dealing with mistakes and regrets. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought his therapist at least would be pleased with this week’s laundry list of psychological poodoo. Despite the tumultuous day, he did not dream.

* * *

“Good day, young Knight. I hear you had a successful mission on Alderaan.” Vygor clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder but paused when the young man gave him a puzzled look.

“Yes, but how did you know?”

Vygor closed the door and gestured for his patient to sit. “Master Yoda was talking about it at lunch.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan clasped his hands under his robe’s sleeves and looked at the floor. “Do you discuss our appointments with Master Yoda?”

“Not unless there is a pressing reason.” Vygor kept his expression calm and non-confrontational. “When I was evaluating you for your trials, I did have to speak with Masters Yoda and Windu about your psychological state and issues that could affect your knighthood. I am no longer evaluating you and would only report to our superiors if I felt you were a danger to yourself or others, or if the issue would be relevant in determining your mission load, primarily for the same reasons, though the mission reporting threshold is a bit lower. I would not reveal something your told me in confidence lightly.”

“I didn’t think you would,” Obi-Wan frowned. “But . . .”

“But you have something to talk about that you would like to keep private.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan glanced at the chaise instead of the chair he normally sat in and Vygor sensed this might be an intense appointment.

Vygor waved his hand to indicate Obi-Wan should sit wherever he felt comfortable. He was unsurprised when Obi-Wan opted to lay down on the chaise facing away from Vygor’s chair. Vygor suspected Obi-Wan was more comfortable being honest about issues he found difficult to discuss if he didn’t feel obligated to maintain his Jedi mask when emotions might run high. The last time he had opted for the chaise they had been discussing the battle with the Sith and his master being struck down. Silently finding his own calm center, Vygor settled into his usual chair and picked up his datapad.

“How much do you know about Force-directed dream interpretation?”

Vygor blinked. That definitely sounded like an issue Obi-Wan _should_ be discussing with the Master Yoda.

“I know there are specific techniques Jedi hone to try to differentiate messages from the Force from the influences of their own psyche.”

“At the level I’m working at, that’s the most important aspect of it. Not that it’s ever unimportant.”

“You’re formally studying your dreams?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan was quite still, indicating that for the moment they were in comfortable territory. “I spoke with Master Yoda about the recurring pyre dream. He feels it’s a message from the Force as opposed to a psychological hang up.”

“What do you think?”

“I really didn’t think my Force connection was strong enough for any sort of significant insight, but the meditation exercises I’ve been doing have been helping me notice and pay attention to subtleties I’ve likely been missing. Master Yoda has also had me working with Master Pythia, a trained Jedi Seer. I can’t say for certain if I’m always applying the techniques correctly, but I have been having experiences consistent with what I’ve been told to look for. While it’s always a danger one’s own mind and wishful thinking could lead one astray, at this point I don’t think I have enough expectations of the process to be doing so.”

“Alright,” Vygor wasn’t quite sure how to prompt his patient to speak further. “Is there something about the process that is bothering you? Or did you have a dream that was disturbing to you?”

It was subtle but Obi-Wan squirmed. Vygor couldn’t actually see the movement, but the chaise creaked slightly, giving it away. “The latter.”

“Did you discuss that with Master Pythia? Or Master Yoda?”

Another creak, and a visible squirm. “I tried, but it did not go well. I respect Master Pythia’s expertise in the Unifying Force, but I don’t feel she knows me well enough to understand the problem. I also don’t think it would be appropriate to bother Master Yoda about.”

“You had no issues with talking to him about your pyre dreams.”

Another squirm, though his voice remained steady. “There were aspects of the dream that I personally found disturbing.”

Vygor turned the answers over in his head, trying to zero in on the issue. What would make the young man uncomfortable enough about a Force vision that he would rather speak to him about it than Master Yoda? “Obi-Wan, did this dream have a sexual element to it?”

“Yes.” He was definitely uncomfortable now, but also seemed relieved Vygor had figured it out.

“And Master Pythia wasn’t able to help you?” Sexual aspects to Force visions were hardly a rare thing, Vygor knew that even with his education and limited dealings with it with his patients.

“She was laughing too hard to take it seriously.”

_Ouch._

Another squirm. “I really didn’t want to get into the specifics of why it was so disturbing to me.”

“That’s very understandable. Can you tell me more about what disturbed you or what happened in this dream, of why you feel it’s a Force-dream and not a regular one?”

“It was not typical of the dreams I have.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath and Vygor could sense the struggle within. “Master Pythia has been teaching me how to differentiate between the feelings and impressions of the dream protagonist if there is one, and from myself in the present time.”

Vygor nodded. This was not terribly different from regular dream interpretation. “You’re trying to ensure you don’t contaminate a message from the Force with your own reactions to the message.”

“Exactly.” He squirmed again. “This can get complicated if this protagonist in the dream is one’s self in a possible future. Particularly if one’s self is not consistent with how one is at present.”

Vygor could definitely see how this could be disturbing. “How do you know the dream protagonist was yourself?” He knew he had certainly taken on other personas in some of his more fanciful dreams.

“There is another technique they are teaching me, part of lucid dreaming. Neuronal overlay.”

This was a term Vygor had heard before but not in this context. “Is this similar to creating a mental map of your own major nerve tracts so you can be certain your consciousness is getting information from your own body? Some of my patients with exceptional strength in the Living Force have had to do so or risk getting confused if they commune too deeply with other life forms during meditation.”

Obi-Wan turned to peer at him from around the side of the chaise. “Yes, actually, but in this case you are trying to determine if the dream protagonist has the same or similar nerve tracts that you do and to be able to differentiate which is providing the neural information.” He turned back around.

“ _Similar_ nerve tracts?”

“Age and circumstances can cause changes in the map. Injury, amputation, disease, illness, regeneration. If it’s identical to yourself in the now, your brain has just filled in the blanks and there is no evidence that you yourself are the protagonist unless the dream is about a point relatively close in time or your neural biology is exceptionally stable. If it’s very similar, particularly in nerves that are uninjured or involved in reflexes but has some variance in a portion of the nerves or less crucial ones, it is probably yourself in a different time or circumstance.”

Vygor thought he understood the concept. “So if I dreamt I was a four-armed Besalisk and checked the neural map, if it felt the same, that is just me dreaming I’m someone else, but if the map is different and I feel those extra arms, I’m getting a message from the Force that requires me to experience the feelings of some unnamed Besalisk, either in the past, present or future?”

“So far as I understand it, yes,”

“Fascinating.” Vygor looked back at his patient. “I take it you were able to identify yourself as the dream’s protagonist?”

Another squirm. “Some version of me. I think I was older.”

“Why?”

“The neuronal overlay was very similar on all the major landmarks, but there were some places with damage and some places that were missing or different, as if nerve ending had regenerated.”

“Missing? Like a limb?”

“No, it felt more like old blaster wounds that healed badly. Maybe a lightsaber wound though I honestly don’t know what a healed over saber wound would feel like. They were there but did not seem to cause major disability. I could also see my hands and arms, and they had a few scars that I don’t have now.”

“You could only see your arms?”

“Sometimes in dreams I can move my head and eyes and look around, but sometimes I can’t. The protagonist is piloting, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” As interesting as the dream theory was, Vygor tried to direct back to what was distressing his patient. “Where were you? What were you doing in the dream?”

Another sigh and squirm. “I’m fairly certain I was at the Jedi Retreat on Arkel IV, where they have the hot springs.”

“You were in the public baths?” Was public nudity the issue? Obi-Wan had never mentioned it being a problem, but so much of his apprenticeship had been atypical, he wasn’t going to assume.

“No. I was in one of the private bathhouses. In the water.”

Vygor bit back a smile. “You were hot-tubbing?”

“I’m not sure if my activity was recreational or therapeutic. The neuronal overlay indicated I might have been very sore, but I couldn’t see much of myself through the bubbles.”

“Why do you feel it was the Jedi Retreat and not a private hot tub somewhere?”

“I’ve been there before as an apprentice. I had badly injured the muscles in my legs and back and the healers prescribed a private bath so I wouldn’t have to shield so much during the physiotherapy. I recognized the bath tile style in the tub and the lay of the land through the window.”

“Alright. What were you doing?”

“I was just soaking. Trying to relax and unknot muscles.”

“And this was sexually arousing?”

“No. Just warm. Relaxing.”

“So, what happened that disturbed you?”

“Someone else came in and got into the tub.”

 _Of course._ Still to Vygor, it all sounded fairly benign.

“Do you know the person who joined you?”

The chaise creaked under a particularly large squirm. “The protagonist me did, but _I_ myself don’t.”

“It was someone you haven’t met yet?”

“I don’t know.” Obi-Wan shifted again, obviously anxious about this unknown person. “I only know the protagonist knew this person. The dream self was expecting them and recognized them. But _I_ could not see or feel who they were.”

“Your eyes were closed?”

“No, I could see everything else. The Force didn’t reveal their identity.”

“Is it possible the identity of this person is not yet definitive? That there are several possible people it could be?”

“Yes.” His tone indicated the unknown element was particularly disturbing.

“What happened after this unknown person entered the tub?”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. “They touched me in a place I am not accustomed to being touched.”

Vygor bit his lip, trying not to smile, knowing his patient was quite distressed about this.

“Then what happened?”

Another long pause. “I woke up.” It was clear from the tone that it was not as simple as it sounded.

“Were you aroused when you woke up?”

The chaise creaked as Obi-Wan hunched in on himself. “Not anymore.”

 _Ah_. “You found it distressing when your Force dream turned into a wet dream?”

“Yes, that’s part of it.”

“Do you usually find wet dreams disturbing?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I usually don’t have them.”

“You don’t?”

“Not very often. They’re annoying and inconvenient, particularly in the field. When they started to become a bother during adolescence, I consulted the healers on how to deal with it.”

“That’s very brave for someone that age.”

“I have a responsibility to perform in the field. I could not afford to embarrass or endanger us with that kind of distraction.”

“I take it the healers recommended regular masturbation?”

“And lucid dreaming.”

“And you still continue to do this?”

“Yes, although I’ve been incorporating a meditation lately instead of just . . . touching. This may have been a mistake.”

“Does the meditation usually lead to climax?”

Another squirm. “About once or twice a week, though I use the meditation more frequently. That’s consistent with my previous, um, regimen.”

“When was the last time you had a wet dream then?”

“I honestly don’t remember, but I must have been a teenager at the time.”

Vygor paused a moment, letting that sink in. “I can see how this would make the experience more distressing. How did it make you feel?”

“Confused at first, but when I first woke up, I was still sorting out my feelings from the dream self. Mortified when I realized what had happened. Relieved that I was alone.”

“Where were you when this happened?”

“On a diplomatic shuttle to my next assignment. Fortunately, I had my own small cabin.”

“You said this other person in your dream touched you in an intimate manner?” He paused to see if Obi-Wan would correct or refute this. “Did that make you feel violated?”

“My present self or my dream self?” There was a note of stress in his voice, and Vygor syspected this discrepancy lay at the root of the distress.

“Let’s start with your present self.”

“No. If this had happened in real life, I think I would have, but I was more startled and shocked than anything else. I was not expecting that behavior in the context of the dream. And it was a dream. The techniques also help to keep an emotional distance.”

“Did your dream self feel violated?”

Another creak. “No. He, I, . . . I think the protagonist laughed.”

“So, to your dream self, the touch was not unwelcome.”

Obi-Wan sighed, trying to articulate an experience he barely understood. “The dream protagonist had been expecting this other person to arrive and enter the tub. I don’t think the . . . touching was expected, but it wasn’t shocking either.”

“Was the dream self aroused before the intimacy? Was there sexual anticipation?”

“I don’t think so,” Obi-Wan sounded uncertain.

“Can I ask what exactly the intimate touching entailed?” He could see the back of Obi-Wan’s ear from his vantage point and noted it had flushed red with embarrassment.

“The, um, person, who was in the tub, used an appendage to . . . stroke the underside of the penis.”

 _Wow_. “Yes, that’s definitely an intimate touch.”

“Yes.” He was squirming less now that he had gotten it out.

“I take it this is not something you’ve had done to you in real life.”

He sighed again, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t even do that to _myself_ in real life. At least not in that . . . way.”

“Why did you use the term ‘appendage?’”

“Because I don’t know what the touch was made with. It wasn’t a hand. The contact point was smaller. Finger? Toe? Wrist? It could have also just been a Force touch. I couldn’t tell how far away the person was, or how they were moving, but I could sense there was a significant Force presence.”

“This person was a Jedi?”

“A Force user. Quite possibly Jedi.”

“Did you get pleasure from the orgasm?”

“No.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t even realize it had happened until I woke up fully. Master Pythia explained that sometimes sensations in either the dream self or the physical self can be lost because it’s difficult for the brain to process two sets of inputs and this is especially true if you wake up in the middle. I think she assumed this was what had upset me.”

“Many would find that frustrating or disappointing I imagine.”

“I think I would have found the experience more upsetting if I had.”

“I agree, you likely would.” Vygor tapped a finger on his datapad, thinking. “Did the dream self find the orgasm pleasurable?”

Another loud creak. “The protagonist didn’t orgasm.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What did the dream self feel?”

Obi-Wan put his hands over his eyes, sighing. “It’s a very confusing mix of emotions, and emotions I’m not accustomed to feeling myself. The dream self was not surprised, and not feeling violated. It was as if it was just one possible action out of many possible choices, all of which were . . . acceptable? Neither surprising nor distressing?”

“It sounds as if this other person might be in a relationship with the dream self. Someone the self is comfortable with and with whom such intimacies are not surprising, nor unusual.”

Obi-Wan thought more on it more, eyes still covered as he sifted through memory. “The dream self was definitely comfortable with this person. This was someone he trusted.”

“Someone he loved?”

Obi-Wan shuddered visibly. “I think so,” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Did the touch make the dream self feel sexy? Desired?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I don’t know, I don’t . . . if it did, that wasn’t the primary emotion.”

“What was the primary emotion? What did the dream self feel?”

Obi-Wan lay his hands back down at his sides, clearly upset. “He felt cared for.” Whispered.

“And this distresses you?” For someone not motivated by sex, Vygor was unclear why love and care would be distressful.

“This implies attachment.”

 _Ah._ “Attachment is forbidden to you.”

“Yes.”

“Many Jedi deal with the biological longing for companionship through casual sex rather than relationships that risk attachment. With your relative disinterest in sex, companionship is more difficult to achieve on an adult level.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I do have friends and acquaintances.”

“But no one involved in your day to day life.”

“No.”

“Are you lonely?”

“Sometimes.”

“Were you lonely as a padawan?”

“Yes.”

“Did the dream self fear being discovered?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said this person was someone the dream self had feelings for and trusted, and that the touch was not unwelcome. This implies at least some sort of relationship and probably not just a casual one night stand. Besides such an arrangement not seeming typical for you, the enjoyable intimacy without any buildup or anticipation also seems consistent with an established, likely long-term relationship with another Force user, very likely another Jedi, at a Jedi retreat. So I’m asking, did your dream self fear this potential liaison would be discovered?”

Obi-Wan was silent, sifting memories again. “No, there didn’t seem to be any real anxiety or fear. Tiredness perhaps, as after a long mission run, but not fear. Why do you ask?”

Vygor snorted. “Jedi with attachment issues usually don’t have illicit liasons at Jedi retreats. It’s just not done, particularly as Arkel IV is a healing compound. I’ve been there. The shielding isn’t _that_ good. If your dream self didn’t fear discovery, I would hazard to guess this older version of yourself managed to find some sort of balance between companionship and attachment. If the relationship was at risk of censure, your lover would have probably taken the foreplay elsewhere.”

“My _what_?” Obi-Wan half sat up on the chaise, then realized how ridiculous that sounded. “I’m sorry, I didn’t really consider that this other person was . . .”

“A lover, or a sexual partner.”

Obi-Wan lay back down. “Even for a virgin that seems rather dense.”

Vygor inadvertently laughed. “I’m sorry, I know this is serious.”

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan assured him. “You’re helping me, and you’ve held out much longer than Master Pythia did.”

“Why is the idea of having a lover in the future so shocking to you?”

“Given my current track record . . .”

“You’re only twenty-six, Obi-Wan. You’ve only been in a position to really explore your sexuality for a year, and you’re also a busy new knight. People change over time. You certainly have changed a lot just in the short time I’ve known you.”

“I honestly cannot fathom how that could be me.”

“Maybe it isn’t. Maybe you’re mistaken about the neuronal overlay for whatever reason. But nothing you’ve described seems terribly out of character for you.”

“I had a Force-dream about public sex in a hot tub. _That_ is out of character for me.”

“The Force is mysterious, but I disagree about this dream self being so very different from who you are now. Clearly casual sex has no appeal for you, or you probably would have made efforts to try it by now. A deeper relationship wherein sex is just one part would be a probable alternative, particularly if this future you is seeking companionship. You said the touch was not particularly arousing, but not unwelcome. It sounds as if your partner probably has a higher sex drive than you do, but that doesn’t make future you uncomfortable. You also have a history of, for lack of a better term, sexual betrayal. The person who you should have had guiding you through your budding sexuality, in whatever form it ultimately takes, was neglectful and restrictive. Based on that history, your personality, and your development over the past year, it is very likely that should you choose a partner, you would have to trust them a great deal, which apparently your dream self does. From an outside perspective, this dream self does sound like someone you could potentially grow into. Would sixteen-year-old you imagine you are you are now?”

“Sixteen-year-old me was desperately hoping I would not be ex-communicated.”

“A lot can happen in ten years. How old do you think you are in the dream?”

“At least that much older. It was hard to tell what was age and what was injury? Being worn out?”

“Jedi don’t go to Arkel IV because they are in peak condition. If your partner is with you, perhaps your dream self developed a relationship with a working partner or a fellow knight. Did the dream self have any sort of bond with this person?”

Obi-Wan went quiet again, but Vygor could sense he was thinking intensely, picking over fine details. “I didn’t notice one before, but I think there might be. But I can’t identify this person, so I might not be able to directly sense the bond either.”

“What makes you think there is a bond now?”

“The dream self was expecting this person from the beginning, but in the early parts of the dream, the other person communicated they were coming and the dream self responded back, but did not speak out loud. The other person arrived soon after.”

“That does imply a mental bond, but you can’t feel it?”

“My mastery of neuronal overlay doesn’t extend that far,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Master Pythia said we would work on assessing mental bonds in the future as that can provide further insight into the dream self.”

Vygor glanced at the chrono. It had been a productive session, but time was growing short. “So if I understand you correctly what disturbed you most about this dream, other than the content which is atypical for you, is the discrepancy between how you view yourself and what you experienced of this dream self, that the lover in the dream remains unknown to you, and that you are concerned this person could be an attachment.”

“Yes.” The chaise creaked again, but the movement was Obi-Wan moving into a more open, relaxed position.

“It’s much less frightening when we articulate what upsets us, isn’t it?” There was a smile in Vygor’s voice.

“Most of the time,” Obi-Wan conceded.

“How do you want to move forward?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “I must admit your interpretation of the dream was less alarming than anything I was coming up with.”

“Do you find the idea of a long-term companion appealing? Assuming you could manage the issue of attachment?”

“I don’t find it unappealing.” Obi-Wan looked up at the ceiling. “I really don’t have any experience with that sort of thing. I don’t know if I could really hold another person’s interest in the long term.”

“With the right person, I don’t think you’d find that to be a problem.”

Obi-Wan raised his hands as if to say ‘there’s the rub.’

“Finding the right person is a universal challenge. I think this might just be a sign to open your mind to the possibility that this might be something within your reach if it’s something you want.”

“Many people never find the right person, particularly Jedi.”

“Yes, but most of my lovelorn patients don’t work so hard at separating the whispers of the Force from their own desires.” Vygor stretched in his chair. “Are you feeling less upset now?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan began to sit up, knowing the appointment was ending. “I probably shouldn’t have been as upset as I was.”

“Your feelings are valid, particularly with regard to your life experience.” Vygor chuckled. “If I knew I’d had a dream like that but sent from the Force, I’d be quite put out over not knowing who I was with.” He stopped, suddenly worried as a thought occurred to him. “Obi-Wan, is it possible the person in your dream was Master Jinn?”

Obi-Wan turned, leaning his arm against the back of the chaise to look Vygor in the eye. “I don’t think so. We no longer have any sort of bond between us, and as it stands, I don’t anticipate rebuilding that with him.”

“He broke it after your trials?”

“He broke it the day he evicted me.” There was a lingering trace of sadness in his eyes, but this was no longer a bleeding wound. “He had been weakening it before that, as more of his attention was devoted to Anakin, and with his long recovery it was further diminished. By the time he cut the last tether on his end there was barely anything left, at least coming from his side. What resources he had were going toward healing and his _next apprentice_.”

Another psychological bombshell. Vygor had hoped they were through with those, but clearly Obi-Wan still had a hidden stockpile.

“Does Master Yoda know about this?”

“Oh, Force, yes,” Obi-Wan stood up to go as the timer chimed. “He probably figured it out before I did.” He looked down at the floor. “He stayed with me while I was grieving that night. We talked about it in the morning. And I already had a small bond with him from before I was a padawan so that helped as well.”

Vygor looked him over, not wanting to end the appointment on a bad note. “You’re very sure it wasn’t Master Jinn, then.”

“That would be a distinctly _BAD_ choice, yes,” Obi-Wan glanced away, thinking. “No, I’m sure. It definitely wasn’t him.”

“How do you know?” The second chime was about to ring, the warning bell for his next patient.

“I told you, I’ve been to Arkela IV before. Master Jinn is a large man. Whoever that was in the tub didn’t displace enough water to be him.”

The chime rang.

“That is the most bizarre reason a patient has ever given me as to why a potential relationship wasn’t the worst-case scenario I feared, but I do hope you find happiness with your future lover with less water displacement.”

“The Force speaks quietly. Details count.”

“Yes, they do. Until next time.”

Obi-Wan waved rather than shake his hand, knowing he was running late. Vygor himself laid down on the chaise to quiet his mind and prepare as his next patient came in, peering at him curiously.

“I’ll be right with you Bri’lss. Rough session.”

Bri’lss glanced up at the mobile over his desk. All the beaded wires were folded back on themselves, rather than swinging free. Stuck.

“No kidding.”

Vygor sat up and followed her gaze. “Darn.” Neither he nor Obi-Wan had noticed during the appointment. He looked back at the young padawan who had settled into the ornately carved chair she preferred.

“How’s your telekinesis?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up to snow and I don't know how late I will end up staying at work, so I decided to post this morning instead of tonight. Any thoughts on Obi-Wan's dream?


	5. Part V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan Vos deals with new neighbors, crashes a tea party, and discusses historical arts, Obi-Wan learns many new things, the new knights learn to roll with the punches, and Qui-Gon Jinn has trouble making a delivery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from _True Colors_ , originally recorded by Cyndi Lauper.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPn0KFlbqX8
> 
> The 'art print' Quinlan is discussing was inspired by this gorgeous piece of art by Marco Teixeira. Definitely check out the rest of his work.
> 
> https://www.artstation.com/artwork/qkKn

_You with the sad eyes, don't be discouraged._

_Oh I realize it's hard to take courage_

_In a world full of people you can lose sight of it all_

_And the darkness inside you can make you feel so small._

_But I see your true colors shining through._

_I see your true colors and that's why I love you._

_So don't be afraid to let them show_

_Your true colors, true colors are beautiful_

_Like a rainbow._

\-- Billy Steinberg, Tom Kelly “True Colors”

“Quinlan!”

Quinlan Vos paused in the hallway, his just emptied trash can dangling in his grip, trying not to sigh. He had really been enjoying his quiet morning, the first full day of his rest period, and he did not want to be sucked into whatever new Knight drama that was sending his younger neighbors into a tizzy. But he didn’t want to be rude, so he turned around and tried to smile. ‘Yes, um, Jitters, was it?”

The pale, young human, who it seemed had been a knight for all of five minutes, nodded. Quinlan wasn’t sure if ‘Jitters’ was his given name, surname, or an apt nickname, nor how it was actually spelled, but it was a mystery to him how a Jedi with so much nervous energy managed to pass his trials.

“Yes,” the green knight calmed a bit when it was clear the elder remembered him. Quinlan had gone with Kressa to drop off the welcome crate. (Kressa had been inordinately delighted when Knight Kenobi had contributed new power packs, adhesive tape and some very nice instant soups rather than just tossing in the box of condoms. Not that either of them had seen anyone else visit to make use of them).

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Jitters indicated Quinlan could keep walking. “But we don’t know what to do and we hope you’ve been through this before.”

Quinlan glanced down the hall. It was swarming with new knights who were cleaning their quarters as if for an inspection. One young Togruta was frantically vacuuming the hallway. Several new knights were straightening up the lounge and the meditation alcove and were dusting the baseboards. All around, doors were opening and closing as young knights took out trash or headed to the lifts with bags of laundry.

“What exactly is going on?”

Jitters looked around carefully before leaning in to whisper, “Master Yoda is in the tower. No one knows why.”

“And?”

Jitters glanced back and Quinlan followed his gaze to see a gaggle of still-green and not-so-green knights staring at him, eyes wide. “He was seen on this floor. He had a Temple Guard with him.” The other knights nodded in near unison. “No one can remember him coming here before. None of the Council ever come here.”

Quinlan would have rolled his eyes, this didn’t seem to merit the degree of mild panic he could sense, but yeah, the Grandmaster coming to the Knight’s Tower was not something he had ever heard of happening either.

“Did you ask him why he was here?” Quinlan had little experience with the little green troll, but if he drank ale he couldn’t be all that bad.

The knights looked at each other and shook their heads.

“I’ve only ever seen him in the Council chambers or with the younglings.”

“He lives in the Master’s Tower. Maybe he was lost?”

“How badly do you have to screw up for Master Yoda to come after you with a guard?”

Jitters paled noticeably.

Quinlan opted to stare at them like the morons they were. “When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago.” One of the knights began scrubbing the baseboards again.

“Did anyone die?”

A few of the knights caught Quinlan’s sarcasm and calmed noticeably, but Jitters just looked more anxious. “Not that we _know_ of.”

The Kiffar sighed. He didn’t want to do this but didn’t see a better option. “Did you ask Kenobi? He knows Master Yoda better than I do.”

Some of the other knights were starting to feel a little ridiculous in the face of cold logic, but Jitters’ continued anxiety prevented common sense from taking hold completely.

“No,” Jitters shook his head. “I haven’t met him yet. Nooki and Marna said he was strange.”

“He is,” Quinlan conceded. “So are you. Let’s go.” He continued down the hall, stopping to drop his trash bin in his own quarters and stopped at Kenobi’s door, glaring until Jitters reluctantly caught up with him, then rang the bell.

Obi-Wan opened the door after about a minute. He was dressed in full Knight’s garb (Quinlan realized on Alderaan that he simply didn’t have many civilian clothes, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered with the sash and tabards alone in his own apartment). He looked them both over curiously. “Yes?”

Quinlan gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry to bother you, Obi-Wan. This is Jitters, a new knight in the neighborhood, and he has a concern that you might know more about than me.”

Obi-Wan looked at the new knight expectantly.

Jitters took a deep breath and launched into an impressive monologue given at very high speed. “Master Yoda was seen in the Knight’s Tower and he stopped on his floor. He had a guard with him and the guard had some boxes. Master Yoda and the guard walked around and then they disappeared and nobody knows why or what he wants or who is in trouble.”

Obi-Wan blinked at Jitters, then gave Quinlan a questioning look.

Quinlan sighed. “You seem to know Master Yoda best. I thought you could, um, talk some sense into him and his buddies?” He gestured down the hall and Obi-Wan peered around the doorframe to see the small scrubbing strike team cleaning in their direction. He looked back at Quinlan with an expression that clearly said ‘Force, what a bunch of dumbasses, but at least I’m not one this time.’

Obi-Wan turned to Jitters, who was actually wringing his hands. “Obi-Wan Kenobi, a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. Jitters took his cautiously.

“Jitten Norwal,” the young man seemed to vibrate less. “They call me Jitters.”

“Welcome to the floor. I understand why you might be concerned seeing the Grandmaster enter the Knight’s Tower, but he’s very clever and _very_ strong in the Force. If he was looking for you an hour ago, he definitely would have found you by now.”

The sound of vacuuming abruptly stopped. Jitters glanced at the cleaning crew, their expressions ranging from annoyed to sheepish. “He had his lightsaber on his belt.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “He’s a Jedi Master. He always wears his lightsaber on his belt.”

The cleaning crew sagged further with both relief and dejection.

“Do you think anyone is in trouble?” Jitters shuddered. “I mean, he had a _guard_ with him.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and looked up as if thinking it over. “I suppose it’s very possible the guard might need some reinforcements if there were some sort of disciplinary issue and asked Master Yoda for help.” Someone in the crew snorted. “But if we haven’t heard anything by now, then we aren’t meant to and it’s probably safe to stop worrying about it.” Jitters watched anxiously as the cleaning crew abruptly dispersed, finding better things to do with a free morning than spot clean a hallway that wasn’t actually dirty to begin with. Quinlan looked down the hall as the residents continued to clean their own rooms and wondered if there were any available clothes washers left.

Kenobi had tipped his head back into his apartment as if listening for something, then turned back around. “I’m having a friend over for tea and snacks. Would you like to join us?”

Jitters shook his head, still not convinced of anything other than Kenobi was strange. “No, thank you. I’ll go help Marna bring the recycling cans to the collection center.”

Quinlan took another look down the hall where each and every object was still getting a fine glaze of nervous anxiety and wondered how long it would take to disperse. He looked back at Obi-Wan. The faint sounds of orchestral music and the smell of some sweet confection drifted out of the apartment. The choice was clear.

“Force, yes. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan bit back a smile, keenly aware why his company was suddenly so preferred, before turning back to Jitters. “Perhaps another time then. It was a pleasure to meet you, Knight Norwal. May the Force be with you.” They both watched the nervous young man nod his goodbyes, then wander away, muttering about the Grandmaster and unwelcome surprises. Obi-Wan gave Quinlan a skeptical look, then stepped back to let him in the apartment.

The Kiffar frowned. “How did you know Master Yoda came by an hour ago?”

“Oh, the incessant vacuuming gave it away. Cold tea or hot?” he asked as he walked across the common room and stopped at the couch. “Would you care for a refill, Master?”

Master Yoda was peering around the side of the couch looking terribly amused. “Thank you, yes.”

Quinlan stared at the tiny green master for several seconds before he burst out laughing. “Cold is good.” He wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry to intrude, I just didn’t want to run through the gauntlet of anxiety again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Obi-Wan called from the kitchen. “I needed a break anyway.”

Quinlan bowed politely to Master Yoda who nodded back, then gestured for the young knight to relax. He slowly walked in, noticing a few new additions to the décor, and the light refreshment laid out on the caff table. The sweet smell was clearly coming from a plate of still warm muffins, next to some dried fruit, steamed soya pods, and an enormous box of seasoned crickets. The middle of the couch was taken up by a large wooden chest that was broken up into compartments filled with wood, glass and metal beads of varying sizes. Quinlan wondered if they were making something, but there didn’t seem to be anything for them to string them on. “Break from what?”

Obi-Wan came back in with Master Yoda’s refill and a paper cup and plate balanced on a larger dish. Quinlan was pleased to note they had not been touched. Obi-Wan gestured for Quin to sit in the new armchair ( _not_ in fact from the Quartermaster) then returned to the other side of the couch. “I fear our Grandmaster has bitten off more than even he can chew this time.” Obi-Wan gestured that Quinlan was welcome to partake of the food as well. “He’s trying to teach me Breggle.”

Quite happily helping himself to the spread (sans crickets) it took him a moment to respond. “Breggle? Moving around little glass stones with the Force? You didn’t learn that in the creche?”

“Not Creche Breggle. Adult Breggle.”

“There’s an Adult Breggle?” Quinlan bit into his muffin and promptly grabbed another.

Obi-Wan snorted. “Not in _this_ apartment, but not for lack of trying.”

“Fine you are doing for first try, but yes, break you should take.” Master Yoda picked up a seasoned cricket. Quinlan paused to watch. “Brain to catch up, needs time does.”

Obi-Wan looked amused as he filled his own small plate. “Master Yoda is an eternal optimist.”

Yoda snorted and proceeded to dissect his cricket one-handed with astonishing speed, separating the inedible parts and leaving the tidbits in separate pile to snack on at leisure. Quinlan made himself stop staring, but Kenobi was right, it was strangely fascinating.

The Kiffar’s gaze landed on the chest, which clearly held many more stones than he was familiar with from the creche. “So, what’s the difference between Creche Breggle and grown up Breggle?”

“More stones mostly.”

“More complicated dances are.”

“Dances?” He’d always known it as a sitting quietly and concentrating really had activity.

“Many stones, move together in patterns. Dance in the air. Play by self, or pair, or more. Back and forth may pass stones, or make stones dance with partner’s stones. Different dances are, but improvisation also.”

“That sounds complicated.” Quinlan sipped his own tea and decided he was going to have to crash Ob-Wan’s tea party again sometime.

“Simple can be. Complicated can be. Force patterns can follow. Movements of stars can follow, dances of lightsaber, of body form can follow. Many forms, like katas. Game of skill but different way to use Force is also.”

“How many stones can you move at once?” Quin asked Obi-Wan, wondering how complicated it could get. He could remember being able to levitate two stones independently as an initiate, but the third one always made him drop the other two.

“Six so far,” Obi-Wan pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed. “It’s when I try to jump to eight or nine that it all goes to shit.”

Quinlan snorted and glanced at Yoda, vaguely scandalized a straight-laced Jedi like Obi-Wan would curse in front of the Grandmaster.

Yoda just reached for another cricket. “Snake technique difficult is.”

“Snake technique?” Quinlan thought back and remembered his creche master making a string of wooden beads dance for the children before and after Breggle games. Sometimes it would crawl around on the floor or raise one end to _look_ at the younglings like a puppet. Rarely it would levitate off the floor and twist and turn like a ribbon dancer. “Aren’t the stones tethered to each other?”

“ _Not_ Creche Breggle,” Yoda clarified. “Not tethered.”

“Wow,” Quinlan looked around, noting the room was much homier. “Hey, you put stuff up on your walls.”

“Yes, well it wouldn’t do to have my great-grandmaster come to visit if my quarters still looked like a dungeon.”

“Have tea, have friends, have fresher. Dungeon not.” Yoda looked around. “More lamps you need. Warmer light.”

“It’s on the list,” Obi-Wan agreed.

Quinlan got out of his chair, curious to see the pictures mounted on the wall. “Is that Bant?” he asked, pointing to a flat pic of a much younger Obi-Wan and a small Mon Calamari.

“Yes, I think that was taken for her coming of age.”

The other pics were of more padawans, probably Obi-Wan’s friend group, at different ages. They looked somewhat familiar, but it was a big temple, so he didn’t think he actually knew any of them. One of the pics was of Obi-Wan, Little Bail and Prince-What’s-His-Name (who had turned out to be Bail Antilles Jr, or Bail-Bail in the Aldera society column), smiling in the sun, probably in the palace gardens.

“Be careful, one of the stones went shooting over there,” Obi-Wan warned as he buttered a muffin.

Quinlan looked down along the floor and soon spied the small, cobalt blue glass rock on the floor in front of the book case. It wasn’t spherical as he expected, more like a marble that had been flattened on opposite sides. He reached down to pick it up and almost dropped it in surprise. The tiny thing was almost vibrating with Force energy. “This Adult Breggle sounds pretty intense.”

“Intense it can be, but relaxing also. Sometimes popular, sometimes not. More fun with friends.”

Quinlan straightened up and came face to face with a portrait laying on top of the bookcase. “That’s a beautiful art print. Why isn’t it hanging?”

“It is, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan agreed. “It was a recent gift from a friend, so it’s waiting for me to find a suitable frame.”

“Frame it you will?” Yoda asked, surprised.

“I was planning to.”

Quinlan turned his body so he could see the print right side up, not wanting to touch it. “Very balanced, interesting pose, good use of light. Is this Verzan?”

“Close you are,” Yoda reached for another cricket. “Is by Kellen, padawan of Verzan.”

“You studied art history?” Obi-Wan asked.

Quinlan glanced back over his shoulder. “I know, I totally seem like the type,” he turned back. “But yes, I have. Art is important to Kiffar culture, particularly since artists put so much of themselves into it, that you can get really strong impressions from works of art through psychometry, even If you don’t actually touch it. I took some art history classes so I’d understand more context.” He carefully slid an envelope out of the way with the Force to see the tiny caption at the bottom. “ _Jedi Knight Number Fifty-Six, Species Unknown_. Such an evocative title. How old is the original?”

“Hmm,” Yoda thought. “Six hundred years? Five-hundred eighty?”

“The detail is amazing.”

“It really is a beautiful painting,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Still paint do you?” Yoda asked.

Obi-Wan snorted. “Not anymore and never anything like that.”

“You used to paint?” Quinlan looked surprised.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Just watercolors. Mostly to add color or background to drawings. I’m not very good at it.”

“Very good your calligraphy is.”

“It was fair. I haven’t done it since before my trials.” Obi-Wan peered at Yoda, eyes narrowed. Yoda smiled back innocently.

Quinlan didn’t notice, still engrossed in the art print. “That is an amazing mane of hair.”

Obi-Wan snorted. Of course, Quinlan would notice the hair.

“That is the hair of a warrior. That hair says _I am a Jedi Knight and I am not taking your poodoo_. Did you see the hair wraps?”

“Popular style then it was. Less tangling, less fuss. Also not still padawan.”

“Exactly. _I’m a Jedi Knight and I have HAIR!_ ” Quinlan pumped his arms over his head, then looked back at the print.

Yoda chuckled. “Change some things never do.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Grow hair long you will too?”

“I haven’t decided. I’m going to the barbers this week, see if they have any suggestions for this mop before I accidentally restyle it with my lightsaber.”

“Lighter it is. Keep color you should.”

“Maybe.”

“You could go with dreads,” Quinlan teased, eyes still on the print.

“No, I couldn’t,” Obi-Wan shook his head. Yoda rooted through the Breggle box.

“Six hundred years old,” Quinlan mused. “That’s amazing, this knight could live down the hall from us today and no one would bat an eye.”

“Or join us for tea?” Obi-Wan sounded amused.

“Exactly,” Quinlan grinned. “Or _sparring_. Balanced stance, lean muscle, piercing stare. You were deadly in the salle, weren’t you?”

“No doubt,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Wouldn’t you love to go back in time and spar with him?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “No, I can stay home if I decide I want my dignity handed to me on a platter, thank you.”

Quinlan was pretty sure that when Obi-Wan said his dignity, he meant his ass.

“Fair fight it would be,” Yoda snagged a muffin with the Force. “Both of you, quite skilled are.”

Quin snorted. “You think I could take him?” He paused, “I guess you were around then. Did you know this knight, Master Yoda?”

Obi-Wan coughed as if his tea had gone down the wrong pipe.

“Yes, remember him well I do.”

“What was he like? What form did he use? Did he follow the rules like Kenobi, or did he drive the Council crazy?”

“Young he was then. Still finding feet, finding place in Force, like now you are. Ataru he used. Called Green Dragon he was.”

“I’ve heard that name before,” Obi-Wan said, almost cautiously.

“Hmm, have you?”

“Yes. It was in some of the newer sagas. I had wondered.”

“Sagas better at rhyme than fact, sometimes are.”

“I can see it, this is a knight sagas would be written about. What else do you remember?”

“Hrmm,” Yoda leaned back into the couch, thinking. “Followed most rules, yes, but followed Force also. Spoke loudly to him Force did, but understand message always did not. Not thorn in Council’s side, but agree always did not. Still to focus learning was. Still self finding was. Brave enough to speak mind was, wise enough to be silent, not yet.” Yoda looked at Quinlan, then Obi-Wan, then back again. “Not maverick, not rule-follower. In between was.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “ _That_ does not surprise me.”

“ _Green Dragon_. I’ll have to look him up.” Quinlan turned back to Yoda. “Form IV? Really?”

“Yes, Form IV. Other forms later learned.”

The Kiffar leaned in close. “What’s that thing in his ear?”

“Old style comm. Custom made.”

“Huh, I guess it would have to be for those big ears. Is that why they called him Dragon? The ears look like wings?”

“I always thought it was because of the superior mastery of Ataru. Flying around the salle with great speed and precision.”

The ancient master snorted into his tea. “Sagas say that?”

“It was implied.” Obi-Wan put his plate on the table and took a handful of dried fruit. “They were quite clear about the knight’s prowess but less specific about the name’s origins.”

“Was there another reason, Master Yoda?” Quinlan asked. “Did he breathe fire too?”

Obi-Wan smiled but held in the laugh.

Yoda appeared to think it over. “Hrmm, closer to truth that is.”

“Ooh, he _knows_ , Kenobi.”

“Well, yes, if anyone would it’s him.”

“Man, this knight had _style_. Forget cream and brown, he is clearly a badass and he is dressing like a badass. They should have put _him_ on the Council. He could lead by example.”

“On Council he was, when older.”

“Really?” He looked behind him. Obi-Wan’s expression was a bit incredulous, as if Quin has missed something, but Yoda seem unperturbed.

“Yes, much older then. After completed missions were, after knighted padawans were. On Council many years. Trained students many years.”

“Huh, I wouldn’t have guessed that. He looks so stern.”

Kenobi mumbled something about screwing up and learning what _stern_ really is. Yoda snorted.

“He even has jewelry on,” Quinlan shook his head. “He had style, strength and flair. We need more art in this Tower to inspire us young knights with the badasses of the old days. Show us what legends we are living up to.”

“Legend not.”

“Sure, he was. Kenobi said he was in the sagas.” He straightened up, taking in the whole rather than the details. “That is so cool that you knew him, Master Yoda. So much of history gets lost or they just don’t record what people were really like. You can get that from the psychometry sometimes, not just the artist, but their impression of the subject too. Not that I can tell from just a print of course, I’d need to sense off the original. What was he like as a person? Was he kind? Was he a grouch? Was he strong in the Living Force or the Unifying Force? Did he ever break the Code? Did he ever find love?” Quin glanced back at Yoda. “Snazzy dresser. He was a ladies’ man, wasn’t he?”

“Um,” Obi-Wan looked as if he were trying to change the subject but Yoda only laughed.

“So sure are you, want to know you do?” He wiggled his ears.

“Yes,” Quinlan answered eagerly. “This is much more interesting that the art history classes I’ve taken. This is _actual_ history.”

Obi-Wan leaned his forehead onto his hand, as if he were sensing some foreboding in the Force.

“Heh, history not. Memory is.” He wiggled his ears again. “Young in painting, Green Dragon is. Kind? Hmm, yes, but young. Busy. Not patient enough. Kinder later. Grouch? Hrmm. Surly sometimes. Not grouch unless very bad times. Strong in Force, yes, but learning still what abilities had. Unifying yes. Living yes. More Living a bit at this time. Not mature enough yet to sense time, to feel how fast future comes.” He pointed at Obi-Wan with his gimer stick. “Have that problem _you_ do not.” He turned back to Vos. “More balanced later.” He leaned back again, thinking. “Break Code? Hmm, depends on interpretation. Stub toe in dark and curse, break Code. Take joy in Force, break Code. Emotions we have. Be ruled by them we should not. Have joy he did. Have sorrow he did. Moments of anger, yes. Dark times, yes. Fear, doubts, yes. Long life he had. Find love, yes, few times. Lose love, yes. Turn to Darkness, no. Grieve loss, yes. Attachment, always struggle is, but shirk duty for love, no.”

Both Obi-Wan and Quinlan stared at his with rapt attention.

“Ladies’ man?” He snorted. “Definitely not. Too short.”

“Really?” Quinlan looked back, scrutinizing the print again. “Huh, there really aren’t any landmarks to tell us how tall he was. He’s very proportionate.”

Yoda wiggled his ears more vigorously. Obi-Wan bit his lip.

“A few nice ladies, relationship with he had. Overlook size they could.” Yoda sipped his tea. “A few nice gentlemen too. Monogamous, no. Promiscuous, not really. Jedi then like now. Multiple partners, avoid attachment.”

“Did that work better then?” Quinlan asked, in all seriousness.

“Balance love and attachment eternal struggle is for Jedi. No one answer for everyone is. Find own path each must.”

Quinlan looked back at the print, his expression more serious. “What happened to him? Did he die in battle, defending the innocent? Was he killed in some senseless conflict?” As knights, both young men were all too aware many Jedi died tragically.

“Hmm, no. Grow old he did. Lost lush hair he did. Wrinkles he got. Stayed green. Kept ears. Plaque there is somewhere.”

“It’s in the Visitor’s Hall,” Obi-Wan’s voice was slightly strained. Yoda wiggled his ears again. Quinlan had the distinct impression he was missing something. He looked back down at the print.

“The Green Dragon,” he mused. Something tickled at the back of his brain. He wasn’t one to read Jedi sagas for fun like Obi-Wan ( _strange_ ), but he had heard the term _Green Dragon_ before. It hadn’t been a warrior name, but rather part of a lewd euphemism the more crude teenage padawans used to insult each other, specifically it was slang for sleeping with—

He looked up. Yoda was waving his ears back and forth now, his expression patient. Kenobi looked as if he were waiting for something to detonate. He looked back at the print.

“Oh, Force, Master Yoda, this is _you_ , isn’t it?”

Yoda made a high-pitched noise that Quinlan took an embarrassingly long time to identify as giggling. Kenobi flopped onto the arm of the couch, face down, shoulders shaking.

“Hee, hee, hee, YES, hee hee, _ME_ it is!” The ancient master sounded positively gleeful. “Ladies’ man! Hee, hee, hee! Flatter old man you do.”

Obi-Wan’s head popped up, face pink, eyes bright with mirth. “I’m sorry, when I realized you didn’t know, I _did_ try to give you a hint.” He tried to contain his own chuckles, but it was a losing battle. Quin thought it was a good look on him.

The Kiffar finally joined in, no longer able to resist. It was friendly, infectious, absurd, but not derisive. As if they were welcoming him in on the joke, rather than laughing at his expense.

Yoda wiped his eyes with his napkin. “Laugh that hard in a long time I have not.” He straightened in his seat, putting his robes to rights as Quinlan sat back down, still laughing himself. “Ladies man I definitely was _not_.” He raised his hand level with the top of the head. “Tiny I am. Get new partner, _grateful_ I was. Not lonely, but swinging bachelor not.”

“Oh, come on, Master Yoda,” Quinlan sipped his tea. “Where did all that style go?”

Yoda looked down at his Jedi robes. “Probably lost in Council meeting.” He sighed, “Stay mostly in Temple now. To impress no one must. To intimidate no one must. Dress comfortable I do.”

“I remember one time you dressed up for the Senate Ball,” Obi-Wan took some more fruit. “You wore a black silk sash instead of a cream one. The padawans wondered if it was a sign of some coming apocalypse.”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Laundry issue there was. Borrowed from Master Piell sash was.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I thought it made you look dignified.”

“Heh,” Yoda took another cricket. “Have me for tea more, get over that you will.” He disassembled the insect, not even looking at it. “Thought it obvious was. Recognize me Obi-Wan did immediately.”

“Yes, I did, but I have an unfair advantage,” Obi-Wan nodded at Quinlan. “Unlike Knight Vos, I saw you make that same expression every morning for three months.”

Yoda frowned. “Make face I do?”

“You do,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “But when I’ve seen it, you were usually holding your morning caff, not your lightsaber, contemplating some aspect of the Force that was beyond my perception.”

This set off another fit of giggles in the ancient master. “Contemplating Force I am not. Waiting for caffeine hit I am.”

Quinlan barked out a laugh of his own.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Well, you made it look very deep and professional, Master.”

“So, _can_ you breathe fire?” Quinlan asked.

Yoda sighed. “Hoping you would forget that I was.”

“You don’t have to tell us, Master,” Obi-Wan reassured him.

The tiny master waved a hand, dismissively. “Know that I do. Upset I am not.” He looked them both over, not used to such an attentive audience over the age of ten. “Did breathe fire once, like circus does. Did on dare. Stupid that was. Do not do. Singed hair. Took forever to grow back out it did. Not reason for name. Name reason for dare was. Green Dragon was called as knight, but _Dragon_ from days as padawan.”

“The other padawans called you _Dragon_?” Obi-Wan was clearly remembering his own childhood nickname, and it was far less flattering.

“Masters called me Dragon did.”

“Did you smoke like a chimney or something?” Vos was quite curious now.

“No, but getting warmer you are,” Yoda almost looked mischievous. “Understand context you must. Take very long it does my species to grow up. Spend whole youth at Temple I did not. When small was, learned of Force, learned meditation, learned reading, learned maths. Too small was for saber drills. Too fine bones were. Body not catch up to brain. Left Jedi I did, go out into galaxy. Meet people. Get bigger. Came back when stronger I was, then padawan I became.”

“And when you came back, they called you Dragon?”

“Hmm, yes. Dragon I was called. Took while to adjust, fit back into Jedi path. Not raised in Temple, so adjustment anyway, but away from Jedi long time was before commit I did.” Both knights were looking at him intently. “Understand you must, traveled several years I did with spacefarers. Not diplomatic ships. Freight haulers. Miners. Refugee ships. When back I came, quiet I was not. Feisty I was. Loud I was.” He paused, peering at each of them. “Potty mouth I had.”

Quinlan slapped a hand over his mouth, failing to smother his laughter. Kenobi fared no better.

“Oh, Master Yoda, you really _did_ breathe fire!” Vos was laughing so hard he was gasping for air.

Obi-Wan could barely speak. “The sagas definitely left _that_ detail out.”

“Too bad,” Yoda shook his head. “More interesting tedious poem would be.”

“It is hard to imagine you cursing a blue streak, Master Yoda,” Quinlan admitted.

“Do _not_ encourage him,” Obi-Wan warned. “When he got that letter from Queen Mazicia, I thought my ears were going to bleed. I’m still not sure what all of them meant.”

Yoda snorted. “Forgot you were there. Blowing off steam I was.”

“Better at home than in the Council Chambers.” Obi-Wan glanced down at the table. “Speaking of the royal family of Alderaan, Senator Antilles sent Master Yoda these fine spiced crickets and he doesn’t know why.” He cut his eyes to Quinlan. “Little Bail refused to tell me, but I had the distinct impression you might know.”

“Um, I might.”

Obi-Wan looked from Master Yoda to Quinlan. “Would now be a good time for me to busy myself in the kitchen so you can brief Master Yoda about the mysterious Alderaanian Cricket Affair?”

Quinlan huffed a laugh. “If it gets me more tea, sure.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan held out the large dish and waited for Quinlan to add his cup before collecting the shelled soya pods and inedible cricket parts. “I’ll give you two some time to chat.”

They both watched Obi-Wan carry the debris to the kitchen, not speaking until he started to run the sink.  
  
“Crickets for what are?”

“Prince Bail, not the senator, thought he might have insulted you.” Yoda looked at him blankly. “Not for the letter, he was against that. He apparently spoke to you about ten years ago, and was kind of rude and only found out who you were because Kenobi was talking about you instead of Master Jinn.”

“Ten years ago,” Yoda contemplated the box. It was a hell of a lot of crickets.

“Something about being upset and Kenobi’s diplomatic credentials being flagged.”

“Ah,” Yoda nodded. “Thought _that_ it might be. Friendly you are with Little Bail?”

Quinlan shrugged. “I think he remembers who I am.”

“Tell him you can, no insult taken was, but wasted crickets were not?”

“You want _me_ to tell him?”

“Believe you he will. Think me being polite he will.” Yoda nodded toward the kitchen. “Know about visit Obi-Wan does not.”

“He wasn’t rude then?”

“Angry he was. Afraid,” Yoda shrugged. “Justified his feelings were. Alerted us to problem he did.” Yoda snorted. “Send _him_ crickets I should have. Insulted not.”

“What exactly did he do? He sounded mortified when he found out you were the Grandmaster and not some bureaucrat.”

Yoda glanced at the kitchen to see if Obi-Wan was listening, but all they could hear was him chopping something on a cutting board. “Concerned he was. Threatened to sue Jedi. Wanted custody if taken care of Obi-Wan was not.”

“Wow, um, rude.”

“Bah, happens often that does. From royal houses, not so much. Also cooperated did, fixed citizenship issue. Worry about losing Republic citizenship Obi-Wan could stop.”

“He thought he would lose his citizenship?”

“Paperwork issue was. Mother not citizen of birth planet, born on Alderaan was not, not recognized by family, given to Jedi, so citizenship through there. As if born on Outer Rim. If leave Jedi, no legal status. Very distressing when on probation was.”

“He was on probation?”

“His story to tell or not. Probation long over. Very good knight now.”

“I know.”

“Good knight you are too.”

Quinlan gave Master Yoda a skeptical look. “I honestly didn’t think you knew my name. You were never one of my regular instructors.”

“Train Kiffar students I do not. Instead Master Koon trains does. Pay attention I do.”

“Why?”

Yoda held out one three-fingered hand to the young knight. “Get close, touch not.”

Cautiously, Quinlan reached out with one finger. He felt Force signatures as a buzz, but as he got closer to the tiny master, he felt not a light vibration, but a deep rumble, like the roar of an ocean or the subsonic pulse of a ship launch. He pulled back quickly, rubbing his fingertip. “Whoa.”

“Heh, scare psychometric children I do. Do not mean to, help it I cannot. Shield they cannot. Master Koon better suited to them. Breathe air he cannot, but Jedi is. Gloves not so strange then for younglings.”

“He’s a good teacher.”

“He is.”

“Is it safe for me to come back?” Obi-Wan called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, mystery solved.”

Obi-Wan came back in with Quinlan’s tea (still untouched) and a plate of honest to Force finger sandwiches. Quinlan wondered if Alderaani tea manners were hereditary. After serving his guests, Obi-Wan sat back down. Quinlan had to admit the sandwiches were tasty, if tiny. Master Yoda dug right in.

“Share crickets you may. Eat them all I cannot.”

“No, thank you,” Obi-Wan replied. “The bristles get caught in my teeth.”

“Farm-raised.” Yoda dissected another cricket and added the resultant fillets to his sandwich. “No bristles.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan leaned forward to take one. “Thank you.”

Master Yoda turned to Vos. “Welcome you are.”

Quinlan shrugged and took a handful. “Thanks.” Insects were not terribly uncommon in Kiffar cuisine. “You said Master Yoda was your great-grandmaster?”

Obi-Wan swallowed his sandwich. “Yes, I am honored to be able to trace back to Master Yoda in my training lineage. Though he’s technically the only member of my lineage I’m actually on speaking terms with.”

“Oh?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, accepting it as fact rather than tragedy. “I’ve never met Feemor, my master’s first padawan. I helped Qui-Gon track down Xanatos, his second padawan, until his death. Master Jinn and I are not currently on speaking terms, and Master Dooku has left the order. _His_ master was Master Yoda, and if I want to trace back any further, I’ll have to read historical poems and sagas.” Quinlan was starting to realize why Obi-Wan spent so much time with Master Yoda.

“My not quite padawan you are. Count you among my direct students I do.”

Obi-Wan nodded modestly. “I thank you for the honor, Master Yoda, though I doubt Master Drallig would count me as a not quite lineage brother.”

“You trained Battlemaster Drallig?”

“Yes, trained him I did. Not first Battlemaster I trained.”

Obi-Wan gestured at the ancient master. “If you are ever feeling over-confident, spar with Master Yoda. He dishes out humility like no one else. Even Master Drallig, who of course serves it in extra large portions.”

“Oh, I _know_.” He bit into a cricket, the spice blend dancing on his tongue. “So why are you teaching Kenobi grown up Breggle?”

“Asked about advanced meditation he did. Same techniques used in exercises. Help grasp and use Force to learn. Game more fun way to learn.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Try Stellar Dance again? Show Knight Vos how to play?”

Obi-Wan glanced at Quinlan. “I’m sure Quinlan is not interested in my amateur efforts.”

“Yes, I am.” Quinlan took another cluster of sandwiches. “I want to see you move six stones at once.”

Obi-wan looked back at Yoda, who Quinlan was pretty sure was making puppy eyes at their host. “Alright, break time over.”

“Heh, do better this time you will.” Master Yoda pulled out a mesh bag full of spherical glass stones, then leaned over to sort them into rows. There were different sizes and each size was a different color. He then picked out a black rubber ball about as big as a plum, larger than any of the stones. “Hold the center I will. Signal when new stone you want, when new size you want, yes?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath as he moved into a lotus position, then nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“Begin we will,” Yoda dropped the ball onto the floor and let it bounce toward the ceiling. When it reached a few feet over Obi-Wan’s head, it stopped abruptly, hovering in mid-air, then slowly began to rotate, never moving from that point. Obi-Wan stared at it, fixing its location in his mind before he closed his eyes and nodded. Yoda picked up one of the largest stones, a golden-orange sphere about a third the size of the ball. He held up the stone in his open palm and after a moment it floated up and began to orbit around the black ball in a perfect circle. Yoda then picked up the next golden stone and when Obi-Wan nodded he again held it out, open-palmed and it soon joined the first stone, following it on the same path. He picked up the third stone and after another nod it too joined the orbit and over the next few rotations the stones adjusted their motion until they were equidistant from each other, then the orbit widened over the next few rotations. Obi-Wan raised his finger slightly and made a quiet humming sound to signal the move to the next size down. Unsurprisingly, Yoda had anticipated this and was already holding a dark blue stone, smaller than the golden ones. After a moment, it also rose, but rather than orbiting the black ball as Quinlan was expecting, it instead began to revolve around one of the golden stones as it continued its flight around the ball.

Quinlan looked on in amazement. This was nothing like Creche Breggle. The next two blue stones took their places around the golden stones, and the whole group orbited around the black ball for several rotations.

Quinlan leaned toward Yoda. “You’re just holding the black one?” he whispered. Yoda nodded, not wanting to disrupt Obi-Wan’s concentration. Quinlan was impressed, it was definitely six stones orbiting the ball at the center.

Obi-Wan hummed and raised a finger again. Yoda picked up the next size down, a slightly smaller green stone, and held it out. Another long moment and the stone lifted and floated up to join a gold and blue stone. The blue stone widened its orbit and the green stone began to revolve around the blue stone which continued to move around the golden stone. Once that group was stable, Obi-Wan nodded for the next one, though this took longer than the previous set. The stones went through more rotations before he added the next two, but after a few minutes he had three identical systems rotating around Yoda’s center, three stones revolving around each other, each system a sun, a planet and a moon.

“That’s more than six,” Quinlan whispered. “Are you helping?” A light sheen of sweat had broken out on Obi-Wan’s brow, but the stones had not broken nor wavered from their path. Quinlan could see why Yoda called them dances.

“No. Just holding center I am.” Yoda looked thrilled. Kenobi raised his finger and hummed again, but even Quinlan could see it was getting harder. Yoda held out an even smaller red stone, a smile playing on his face.

The dance continued for several rotations before Obi-Wan picked up the red stone. Quinlan expected it to start rotating one of the green stones, but to his surprise it started orbiting the ball instead, taking an elliptical path that cut through the plane of the previous orbits at a forty-five degree angle. The ellipse was narrow enough that it didn’t cross into the path of the three solar systems, but was also orbiting in the opposite direction.

Obi-Wan’s face and neck were shining with sweat from the mental exertion, but the whole continued to spin above them, evenly spaced and aligned, in perfect unison. Yoda didn’t reach for another stone, even Quinlan could tell Kenobi had reached his limit, but the tiny master was leaning back to watch the display above him, eyes dancing in delight. Clearly this was a game the Grandmaster loved playing, though Quinlan had never seen it before.

The dance continued for several minutes, enough for the neckline of Obi-Wan’s inner tunic to get noticeably damp (and Kressa would be totally pissed that she missed this), before Obi-Wan again made the humming sound, but this time pointed down. Master Yoda held out his hand and the stones were returned to him in reverse order, one by one. The mini-model galaxy was slowly disassembled. Quinlan watched as the dance grew simpler and simpler until only the ball remained. Master Yoda put down the last stone, then released the ball, letting it bounce off the floor and up into his hands. Obi-Wan exhaled noisily, then flopped back on the couch, limp and breathing a little faster than normal.

“That was amazing,” Quinlan saluted Obi-Wan with his tea. “That was ten!”

“Wonderful you did!” Yoda clasped the ball to his chest, his smile broad. “Told you would do better I did. Practice you need but do it you can.”

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan sat up and reached for his glass of tea. “Practice? I need a _nap_.”

Yoda snorted. “See purpose of Creche Breggle you do.”

Quinlan laughed as Obi-Wan wiped his face and neck with a napkin.

“Do you want to try it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No,” Quinlan held up a hand. “Maybe some other time.”

“Start with Creche Breggle moves if you want to try, move up to dances later.” Yoda began gathering up the stones in the mesh bag, then tucked them into their cubby in the chest. “No more play today. Let brain rest. Keep trying snake technique. Teach you another dance next time I will.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan stretched, then looked at the chest. “I didn’t know I could hold that many.”

“Easier gets with time. With practice even more stones carry you can. Four stars, even five. Multiple planets, different numbers of moons. Different speeds, different orbits. Simple or complex Stellar Dance can be. Very well you did. When understand techniques you do, other dances easier will be. Eventually hold center also you can.”

Quinlan handed over the stone he had picked up off the floor and Yoda plucked it from his hand with the Force and dropped it in a different cubby. “I should probably get going. Thank you for the food, the company, and the safe harbor from neurotic young knights.” He stood up, draining his tea (yeah, he was going to have to find out what blend this was) and placed his cup on the caff table.

“Stir them up my intention was not, but learn to roll they must.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “We weren’t even bothering to shield. You’d think _someone_ would figure it out.”

“If they did, they’re probably hiding like me,” Quinlan retorted. He grinned awkwardly. “It was nice to get to know you, Master Yoda.”

Yoda smiled up at him serenely. “Nice to know you as well. Also good to meet great-grandpadawan’s new friends.”

Obi-wan moved to get up to show Quinlan to the door, but the Kiffar waved him off. Kenobi was clearly wiped out. Quinlan stepped out into the sparkling clean, but thankfully calm, communal hallway and closed the door behind him. Obi-Wan peered at Master Yoda over the Breggle crate. Slumped as he was, the tiny master was at eye level. “Master, you’re as bad as Bant.”

“Bad I am not. Good as me Bant is.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to talk me up to the other knights.”

“Yes, I do.” Yoda’s eyes twinkled. “Talk you up you will not. Master Jinn can’t brag about you. Finish job he did not. Clearly, my job this is.”

Obi-Wan shook his head as he straightened up. “I’m making friends.”

“You are,” Yoda sounded pleased. “Like you Knight Vos does.”

“You _are_ as bad as Bant. I’m not looking to date anyone.”

“Not ready you are?” There was no judgement.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “Master Yoda, I, . . . I don’t really feel lust for other people.” He braced himself for the response.

“Hmm, surprise me this does not.”

“It doesn’t?”

“More than 800 years old I am. Seen everything I have. Lived in my home you have. _Twice_. Twenty-five-year-old man, knight almost, discreet you might be. Good shielding you had, lusts may be hidden, but sixteen-year-old boy you were? Noticed lack I did.”

“You did?”

“Several male humanoid padawans I have had. Know what to expect I do. Never such clean sheets did they have. Thought you were depressed.” He shrugged. “If normal for you, bad that is not. Happiness I want for you.”

“Do you think I’m strange?”

“No.” Yoda gazed at Obi-Wan intently until the young man turned and looked him in the eye. “Grew up in monastery I did. Know many Jedi like you I have. Loved them I have. Friends they have been. Required for this lust is not.”

“Many people don’t agree.”

Yoda reached out with the Force to move the crate to the floor in front of the couch, then slid over until he was sitting next to Obi-Wan. “Strange you are not. Get to know people you do here,” he tapped Obi-Wan’s forehead. “Trust them here, before trust them here you do,” he tapped Obi-Wan’s chest. “Like this you have always been, even as child.” Yoda sighed. “Understand you Master Jinn did not. Feels people he does first with heart, not head. Sometimes first with Force. Sometimes first with gonads. Confuse these he can, but realize this he does not.”

“He becomes infatuated.”

“He does. Flit he does from love to love. Shallow relationships, temporary companions, showered with attention, affection. Believe he does will of the Force led them into his life, but forgotten by next mission are. Exception Tahl is.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sighed. “He was never infatuated with me.”

“Trust you he could not. Lived life heart first he did. Burned badly he was. Helped him you did to trust again, to open heart to others again, to take small risks. Open heart to you he could not. Too high a risk. Hurt him you could if turn like Xanatos. Like Xanatos you are not. Turn we all could, but _that_ betrayal in you is not. Gave him your heart you did and take care of it Qui-Gon did not. Head of yours too smart to open heart again easily. If find someone to trust with heart, gonads might follow. Might not. Know many monks I did. Some monks all of life. Some left monastery, for love, for other reasons.”

Obi-Wan tried to laugh, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Maybe I should have been a monk then.”

Yoda gave him a wry look. “Very clear the Force has been, for knighthood you should be trained. Doubt that you should not.” Very gently, the ancient master patted Obi-Wan’s knee. “Less clear Force is on romantic life for you, but always alone I do not think you will be. Told you I did that time of growth this is for you. More opportunity you have now that training Skywalker you are not.” Yoda looked him in the eye. “Lonely you have been. Know I do that think you do whole life lonely will be.”

“Yes.”

“Still dream of desert you do?”

“Yes. I had it several times during the mission to Naboo, particularly when we were stranded on Tattoine, but I assumed it was because it was a desert planet. It kept happening after we left, and became almost incessant after Master Jinn was injured, but stopped after he woke up. I think that’s why my eviction was so shocking to me. I’ve been having this dream of exile for so many years, but when he washed his hands of me as I feared, I wasn’t actually having it.”

“Have it since then have you?”

“Yes. A few times. That one never quite goes away.”

“Talk to Master Pythia about it you should. Different meaning it might have. Older you are. Examine again with fresh eyes.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Teasing you I am not, good friend for you Knight Vos is. Interesting Force currents there. Dismiss that do not.”

“He has been both professional and welcoming, Master.”

Yoda peered at him, eyes narrow. “No romantic interest? Different from lust that is.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip to keep from laughing. Master Yoda could be damn persistent. “No, Master. Besides, he seems _quite_ happy in his relationship with Knight Carlin.”

“Hmm. Love triangle bad choice for first romance.”

“Not to mention he’s a maverick Jedi, similar to someone we both know.”

“Good point you have. Ready you are not, but potential there I think. In love, timing everything is.”

Obi-Wan leaned back into the couch. “I honestly don’t feel like I’ll ever be ready.”

“Talk to Vygor you do still?”

“Yes, I still see him when I’m back in Temple. He gives me similar advice, that even though a relationship seems frankly impossible to me now, it might be something I could have or want in the future.”

“What does Force say to you?”

Obi-Wan looked away, the blush rising on his cheeks too fast for him to stop it.

“Oooh, say _something_ Force did.” Yoda patted his knee again. “Pry I will not. Respect privacy I do, but if need to talk you do, here I am.”

“I know Master. I spoke with Master Vygor about it at length.” He sighed. “I do think it was the Force speaking to me in a dream, and not my sub-conscious mind, but it showed me a possible future that I don’t feel I have either the ability or the personality to reach.”

“Underestimate self you do sometimes. Other person in dream? Good feelings you had?”

“I’m still coming to terms with it, but the feelings weren’t bad. The other person was a blank.”

Yoda slapped his own knee, a rueful expression on his face. “So frustrating is when happen that does.” He wiggled his ears, thinking it over. “May be person not set, may be ready to know you are not. May be potential is message only. Happen might, happen not, but keep meditating you should. Perhaps tell more Force will when ready you are.” Yoda sighed. “Almost time to leave is. Clean up we should.”

Obi-Wan stood to collect the plates and cups. Yoda resealed the bags of crickets.

“Crickets you want? Plenty there is.”

“No, thank you. One is my limit.”

“Some for friend? Long shelf life.”

“Only if that friend is you, Master.”

“Good idea that is.” He pulled out a few bags. “Save for next time. If feed to Vos, hurt I will not be.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but carried the sealed bags to the kitchen. “I’ll label them with your name.”

“Warn you I will, kill the mood that might. Way to heart through stomach can be.”

“I’m not trying to win his heart, Master.”

“Pity, won his stomach you did already.”

Obi-Wan came back out and began to close up the Breggle box. “It’s official, you are _worse_ than Bant.”

“No, good as me Bant is not. No shame, more experience I have.” Yoda chuckled to himself as Obi-Wan picked up the crate to bring it to the door with the crickets. “No, no, keep crate you should. Practice you will need.”

“Master, I can see how much you enjoy this. How will you play if I have all your supplies?”

“Belonged to Master Dedrin these did. Died fifteen years ago. Have been in closet since. So happy he would be that used again they are. You keep for now. If enjoy game, keep permanently. Decide later.”

“Thank you, Master. I don’t believe I’ve heard of Master Dedrin.”

“Very good at Breggle he was. Played together, and as pairs. Now, Breggle mostly played in Jedi retirement hall.” Yoda waved his gimer stick at Obi-Wan. “Old soul you still are. So glad young friends you are making.”

“Yes, Master.”

Yoda trailed after Obi-Wan as he carried the leftovers back to the kitchen. “Why think you impossible relationship is?”

Obi-Wan shrugged as he packed up the muffins. “Where do I start? My low libido, lack of experience or my virginity? In a dating pool where everyone else got past the awkward stage years ago.”

“S-training an option still is.”

“I know, I just . . .”

“Feels awkward.”

“Yes. And I have considered it. I’m concerned about it as a hole in my training, but . . .”

“Desire not there.”

“Yes.”

“But Force telling you someday might be?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t make sense of all the emotions. Maybe it was a future I can’t have.”

Yoda shook his head and tugged at Obi-Wan’s pants leg, leading him over to the bookcase where he had left the print.

“See Green Dragon you do. Very young there.”

Obi-Wan looked down at the print. “Yes, Master. I see you.”

“Secret I tell you. Not really secret, just private.” When Obi-Wan looked down at him Yoda poked him in the knee.

“See painting you do. Young Jedi Knight there. Strong?”

“Yes.”

“Brave?”

“Yes?”

“Confident?”

“Yes.”

“Virgin he was too when braid was cut. Worry me your virginity does not. Adult you are. Mature you are. Strong. Brave. Confidence still coming. Understand feeling left behind, out of step. Good heart you have. Good brain you have. If will of Force, find love you can, with sex or not.”

Obi-Wan gave him a doubtful look.

“I know, find right person hard part is. Force is your ally, forget that not. Listen to it, help you it can, even in this. When find right person to trust, matter virginity will not, because trust more important is. If not trust with virginity, why trust with heart?”

“Eternally optimistic. That’s quite a tall order, Master. I’d need to find someone I can trust who can handle that I don’t know how to do anything, and I don’t have any lust for them either. I just don’t see how I could even find such a person, much less one who finds me interesting.”

“Also thought only hold six stones you could. Underestimate self you do.” Yoda sighed. “Understand I do, do not doubt. Young I was. Felt same. Thought never find someone I would. Rare my species is.” He looked Obi-Wan up and down. “Heh, good body you have, fine features, good mind. Hard to find right person, but attraction problem won’t be. Green Dragon had no one like him except one crusty master, old like me, saw him as child. Lust had, no dating pool. Very familiar was with hands.”

“I hadn’t considered how that could have been an issue.”

“ _Big issue._ You think _you_ worried, thought four-hundred-year-old virgin I would be.”

Obi-Wan almost laughed, as was Yoda’s intention.

“Twenty-six not so bad now, hmmm?”

“No, Master.”

“Wait four hundred years I did not. Found person I could trust. Found someone to share self with. Took longer, but impossible not.”

“So how did you find someone? Did you just . . . trust the Force?”

“Hrmm, yes. Trusted Force. Opened mind.” He put his hand on Obi-Wan’s knee to emphasize the point. “Discovered short women.”

“Short women?”

“Height closer, work better did. Point is, not everything problem is. Seemed insurmountable at time, no one like me there was. In end, matter not. Know I do not what work for you will, but complicated as you think it is not.”

The door chimed, followed by a familiar voice from the hall. “Come on out. I know you’re in there.”

“Here my ride is. Know you do, proud of you I am.” Yoda began walking to the door. “My place next time. Bring more muffins. Leave stones. Set I have.”

“Yes, Master.”

Obi-Wan followed to the door and opened it to find Master Windu standing on his doorstep, arms crossed over his chest. Yoda stepped into the hall, amused to see many of the same young knights who had been frantically cleaning when he had arrived were now standing about in shocked silence.

“Found me you have. Who told you where hiding I was?” He peered at the young knights, feigning suspicion.

Mace rolled his eyes. “Eller. She sent me to get you for the afternoon session.”

Yoda put a hand on his chest, a shocked look on his face. “The _fiend!_ Sold me out she did!”

Master Windu, head of the Temple and the Jedi Order, wondered how this had become his life. “She said you had a heavy box and I needed a walk.”

Obi-Wan handed over the box of crickets, a small packet of muffins balanced on top, then bowed to both masters. “Thank you for your wisdom, counsel and fine company, Master. May the Force be with you.”

Yoda pointed down, gesturing for Obi-Wan to kneel so they could speak more easily. “Thank you for tea and conversation. Do again we will.” To Obi-Wan’s surprise, the Grandmaster hugged him around the neck, patting him on the back. “Goodbye, Great-Grandpadawan. See you soon I will. Keep practicing. May the Force be with you.”

Obi-Wan lightly returned the hug, then Yoda pulled away, turning to Mace with a sour expression. “Fine, fine, to work I will go”

Mace leaned down to let Yoda get a firm grip on his arm, then straightened up and swung his arm to let the smaller master clamber up to his shoulder. “Good day, Knight Kenobi.” He nodded then walked back to the lift carrying Yoda and the crickets and leaving a trail of awed and confused knights in his wake.

“It’s very clean in this hallway. Are those muffins for me?”

“For Eller they are, share she might. Welcome to share crickets you are.”

“Are they Huttese?”

“Huttese not. If one is Huttese—”

“Then they _all_ taste Huttese. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes! Very good. Good food. Good tea. Carry ten stones Obi-Wan did in Stellar Dance.”

“You’re teaching Kenobi Breggle?”

The lift doors closed. Obi-Wan went back inside and closed the door.

Jitters huddled in a chair in the lounge, trying to look invisible.

The Togruta with the vacuum obsession turned to glare at him. “Master Yoda was here for _tea_?”

Jitters sank further in his chair.

Quinlan shook his head from his own seat where he was folding clean laundry. “Just have to learn to roll with it, kids.”

The Togruta threw a pillow at him.

* * *

Qui-Gon Jinn stared at the two sealed cartons and the small metal box and wondered if the Force was laughing at him. All he wanted to do was deliver Obi-Wan’s possessions to him and ensure he got them without actually having to interact with him. Which he knew was silly, he was not only an adult, but a Force-damned Jedi Master, but his thus far non-existent interactions with the now knight made him wary. Any meeting between the two of them would likely be emotionally charged and he really just wanted to be done with it.

Apparently, the Force and Cin Drallig had it out for him.

He started out with Deliveries. They had refused. As per the orders of the Battlemaster, due to the Sith presence there was now heightened security within the Temple. As such, Deliveries would only drop off materials above a certain weight and size if it could be scheduled beforehand and signed for upon receipt. Because a) the boxes weighed too much b) he didn’t want to even see Obi-Wan, much less coordinate times with him and c) Obi-Wan was out on a mission run anyway, Deliveries couldn’t help him.

He tried Storage next. If Obi-Wan was off planet anyway, he thought it actually made more sense to store them under Obi-Wan’s name and just send him a note so he knew to pick them up whenever he got back in Temple. Storage had refused as well. As per the orders of the Battlemaster, no one could store items under someone else’s name unless it was a master doing so for their just-knighted padawan (Qui-Gon had missed the deadline), the Quartermaster was renovating or reassigning rooms, or the person was a designated Legal Next of Kin (which is how Qui-Gon found out he no longer was, not that it should have surprised him).

His third option was appealing to the Quartermaster directly. The Quartermaster made regular deliveries independent of Deliveries and if he explained his predicament of having missed the post-knighting deadline, might be kind enough to classify it as a quarters reassignment and add his few boxes to the delivery schedule. He did not get a chance to blame either Cin Drallig or the Force this time. Upon reaching the front of the line, the attendant on duty took one look at him and called for the actual Quartermaster. Master Hestia came to the desk and promptly asked him if he had any evictions for today. It was all downhill from there.

However, he was not a top negotiator in the Order for nothing (present status not withstanding), so after five minutes of obstructive interference he leaned heavily on the counter, let his tunic gape open to show his brace and tiredly asked if Master Hestia could tell him the correct way to handle this.

Apparently, he underestimated the value of humble cooperation, because she immediately snatched a piece of flimsi and scrawled out the directions in three easy steps:

  1. _Contact LNOK for recipient._
  2. _If LNOK is in residence, arrange with them. Most LNOKS are authorized to enter quarters or if not can authorize delivery through Quartermaster._
  3. _Arrange delivery via LNOK with or without Quartermaster._



Which was how Qui-Gon Jinn found himself three hours later, still in possession of Obi-Wan’s belongings, trying to determine who his former padawan’s LNOK was.

He had started by checking his own access status. Just because he was no longer the LNOK did not mean he had no status. Except it did. All he could see when he called up Obi-Wan’s records were standard permissions. Obi-Wan’s name, his delivery code (not his actual physical address), his status in the Order (Knight Level 2, he had completed his first solo missions and could move on to more difficult assignments, typical for a year post-knighting), and contact codes for his legal next of kin, medical next of kin and final executor. Surprisingly, all three were different codes, implying they were different people, and Qui-Gon had no idea who they were. He also realized Yan Dooku was still one of his and he should probably update his paperwork since his former master had left the Order. Thank the Force he had Tahl, but he had no idea who Obi-Wan had.

If pressed, he would have to guess that Bant was either the LNOK or the MNOK, and one of the Temple barristers probably served as the final executor. The Temple legal department (made up of both Jedi and civilian lawyers) often served as both types of NOKs as well. While most Jedi initially continued to use their former masters to serve these functions until they were replaced with lovers, close friends or former padawans, the Jedi life was a dangerous one, and there were many in the Order with no close lineage kin, particularly among the elderly.

He was slightly annoyed with the whole process now, not the least of which because he had no idea who he was calling, but he could be an adult about it. He could not blame Obi-Wan for not planning his surprise eviction better. He entered the comm code and waited.

_Confirmation: in Temple_

_Communicate: redirect: text-based message_

He rolled his eyes at the text prompt. Probably an unknown, faceless barrister. Bant must be the MNOK. He typed into the box, explaining he was ~~Padawan~~ Knight Kenobi’s former master, he had some of his belongings and would like to arrange delivery as soon as convenient if the recipient was still his LNOK. Of course he _knew_ this person was Obi-Wan’s LNOK, but a barrister might have dozens of clients and such services might be rarely called upon. Force knew when he would get a response back. He got up to make tea. He had just started to steep his cup when he heard the message alert.

_How large is delivery? Can you move it on grav sledge?_

That was fast. He looked over at the boxes. Yes, they would fit on a grav sledge. He read the message again and realized the barrister might expect him to bring them to a pre-arranged location by himself. He considered it. Yes, he could manage a grav sledge, so long as it wasn’t a peak travel time. He said as much in his response.

_18:30 acceptable?_

Today? That was just past the start of dinner hour in the commissary, so traffic in the residential towers would be starting to ease. Perfect. He agreed.

_Size of sledge? Sent to your quarters?_

Whoever this person was, they were incredibly efficient, even requesting the grav sledge on his behalf. Medium size should do fine.

_Medium grav sledge w/riding slats to Jinn’s quarters in Master’s Tower requested. Bring delivery to base of Knight’s Tower between 18:30 and 18:45. Address correct?_

His own address was correctly listed. He wondered how this person knew who he was, then realized that as Obi-Wan’s former master he may have been listed as a contact or on some other legal document.

_Order placed. Contact if there is an issue._

The connection died. Only then did he realize he still had no idea who he had been speaking with, much less who he was supposed to look for. Still, how many old masters with grav sledges were going to the show up at the Knight’s Tower on any given evening? He decided to trust in the Force and let them find him.

The rest of the day went much better than his beleaguered morning. He still had Anakin’s box, so he took a quiet stroll to the Initiate’s Dorms just before lunch hour to drop it off and ended up taking Ani to their usual café. He did not get back home until nearly 13:30, but shortly after Deliveries came with the grav sledge. Despite being unable to actually deliver the items, the attendant was nice enough to load the sledge for him and show him how to steer it and ride on the slats if he didn’t want to walk behind it. He spent the rest of the afternoon repotting some new succulents in his new meditation space, reviewing a treaty draft sent in by a field Jedi he had been asked to consult for (no, the proposal was _not_ reasonable, and here was how to say so politely to avoid offense) and taking a light meal ahead of his appointment. At ten past 18:00 the traffic in the halls had slowed noticeably and he left his quarters and headed for the freight elevator. He even arrived five minutes early at the lobby at the base of the Knight’s Tower. There was no one obviously looking for him, so he settled onto a bench in light meditation.

At precisely 18:30 a well-dressed woman in a wine-colored cloak and hat entered the lobby, scanned the room and headed toward him, face carefully neutral. It wasn’t until she was nearly upon him that he recognized her as Eller, Senior Aide to the High Council.

“Is this everything, Master Jinn?”

“Yes,” he frowned. “Eller? You’re Obi-Wan’s LNOK?”

“No, I’m just the support staff.” She looked over the sledge, testing the balance of the load.

“Coming I am!” Master Yoda called from the hall outside as an amused knight held open the door. “Apologize I do. Ran into Master Drallig I did. Urgent matter there was.”

If Qui-Gon were a more cynical man, he would be wondering exactly why Cin had it out for him.

“He has everything loaded up, Master Yoda. Did you want me to take it up for you?”

Yoda peered at Qui-Gon speculatively. “In rush you are?”

“No, Master.”

Yoda nodded, then turned to Eller, clasping her hand warmly. “Thank you, no. Go home you should. Work you too hard we do.”

She glared at Qui-Gon suspiciously. “If you’re sure, Master Yoda.”

“Talk with Master Jinn I must.”

She nodded, “Of course, Master Yoda.” She looked back at Qui-Gon. “Leave the sledge in the freight elevator lobby on Kenobi’s floor. Delivery will pick it up tonight. Do _not_ leave it in his room.” She turned back to Yoda. “Are you sure you won’t need help unloading it?”

Yoda patted her on the shin, probably feeling his usual knee taps were too forward for a non-Jedi subordinate. “Have Force as my ally I do. Worry not. Go home, call sister. Bring pics of new niece tomorrow. Go, go!” He made shooing motions.

Eller shook her head. “She’s eight months old, Master Yoda, not a newborn.”

“Grow fast they do. Home now.” They both watched as she left the Tower and headed toward the public transports.

“Obi-Wan asked _you_ to be his LNOK?”

“Volunteered I did.” The ancient master peered over the sledge, frowning at how little there was. “Go we will.” He headed off toward the freight elevator with astonishing speed. Qui-Gon scrambled to get the sledge moving again to follow. By the time he arrived, Master Yoda was holding the lift and had entered the floor.

“Done this sooner you should have.”

“Yes, Master.” He really hadn’t expected this scenario when he woke up this morning.

“Throw him out you should not have done to begin with. Work out issues we could have if willing to compromise more we both were.”

“You still think training Anakin is a mistake?”

“Making promises you could not keep a mistake was. Give boy freedom but only if follow new, very hard path mistake was. Take boy from mother when old enough to remember mistake was. Tell him he is Chosen One with path laid out by Force mistake was. Show him that do everything right and still get thrown out one can be mistake was. Training now already to bad start is off on. Go on I should?”

They got off the lift and Yoda led him down one of the residential corridors, not even bothering to look at the signs or room numbers. Qui-Gon got a few suspicious stares from passing residents, but Yoda only got an occasional smile if they noticed him at all. It was odd. If the Grandmaster had come to the Knight’s Tower when _he_ had lived here, he probably would have freaked out.

Eventually they stopped at a door in the middle of the hall. It did indeed have Obi-Wan’s name on the small brass plate. Yoda waited until he had stopped the sledge, then stretched up on his toes to reach the palm reader that was unfortunately placed for someone Obi-Wan’s height. The door opened immediately, and the lights came on. Yoda held the door, waiting while Master Jinn awkwardly pushed the sledge into the very neat, still mostly empty common room.

“I still don’t understand why it took the Council so long to accept Anakin as the Chosen One.”

“Heh,” Yoda barked out a harsh laugh as he motioned for Qui-Gon to land the sledge. “Why think you accepted this as truth the Council has?”

“You accepted him for training after he proved his abilities at Naboo.”

Yoda raised a ridge eyebrow. “Accepted for training, yes. Accepted as Chosen One, not yet.” He gestured around the room. “Learn from last padawan you could. Read more sagas. Hardly first candidate brought before Council who Chosen One _might_ be.”

“Really?”

“Why think you Chosen One he is, not just very strong Force user?”

“His midi-chlorian count. His Force presence. That he’s the only human who could pod race. That he was born on a planet with two suns. That he had no father. He could have been conceived by the midi-chlorians.”

“Could have been conceived by one night stand with unethical mind trick.” Yoda approached the sledge, climbed on and opened the first carton, rooting through, giving it a cursory inspection.

“What are you doing?”

“For breakables I am checking.” Satisfied with the placement of the items, he replaced the lid, then used the Force to lift it off the sledge and into the corner.

“What about the rest?”

“Born in two sun system with many midi-chlorians? Two suns uncommon not.” He turned to the metal chest, unlatching it to peer inside. “Ah, here they are. Need him to do calligraphy soon the Council might. Practice he will need.”

“You want him to write out more documents? Don’t you have enough Temple-bound Jedi for that?”

Yoda gave him another skeptical look. “Field Jedi calligraphers few are. Some worlds only respect negotiator who power of written word understands. Have to rebuild whole kit he won’t.” He carefully carried this one by hand over to the first box. Qui-Gon was surprised the little troll could still lift that much dead weight given his size and age.

“Have any of these so-called Chosen Ones fit the prophecy so well?”

“Hard to say, not all in lifetime. Sagas as vague as prophecies become in time.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully and Qui-Gon braced himself for a patented Master Yoda Smackdown. “Read about Little Bird have you? Know that poem Obi-Wan does well.”

“No, Master, I’m not familiar with the Saga of Little Bird.”

“Saga he did not have. Appears in other poem. Came to Temple he did before padawan I was. Speculated many did, even after left he did, that Chosen One he could be.”

“Why? Did the midi-chlorians have another sex romp a few centuries ago for practice?”

“Heh, no. Fell out of sky he did. From where no one knew. No parents, no people, no tribe. Also on planet with two suns. Midi-chlorians not tested then, but Force presence recognized by masters was. Did things that caught notice.”

“What did he do?”

“Piloted ship from Inner Rim to Coruscant without hyperdrive calculator. Use Force only.”

“That’s standard Jedi training, navigating by the Force and the stars.”

“That’s _why_ standard training is. Still child was, though older than Skywalker.”

“Impressive. This is in the sagas?”

“No. Knew masters who remembered him, talked of this they did.”

“Two suns, strong in the Force. Anything else?”

“Purchased also he was for questionable motives.”

“Huh, if it’s true, that’s arguably as strong a case as Anakin, barring an actual midi-chlorian count.”

“Bah, focus on numbers too much you do.” Yoda went over to the last box.

“What happened? Did he ever do anything that suggested he balanced the Force?”

Yoda shook his head. “Left Temple he did. Sagas not mention Little Bird again.”

“They let him leave? He never came back?”

“Great grief he had. Unsuitable for Jedi was. Galaxy did not stop spinning because possible Chosen One trained was not.”

Yoda stopped, peering into the box, then lifted out the dream interpretation book. He opened it to the fly leaf, reading over the inscription and no doubt feeling Obi-Wan’s presence in the book as much as Qui-Gon had. “Did not know, kept this he did.” He looked further in the crate, noting it was mostly books.

“So you think I should not have pushed to train Anakin?”

“Lots of things I think done you should not have. Live in moment all well and good, but one future there is not. Many possible. Not all good. Darkness in Force around Skywalker and leave Obi-Wan to navigate that alone you did if joined the Force you had. In flux now they both are. Terrifying part, improvement this is. Mace feeling shatterpoints. Seers working overtime. Obi-Wan having Force dreams with no experience to understand them. If Skywalker’s master he was, wasted that raw talent would be.”

“You honestly think Obi-Wan has any significant talent in the Unifying Force? He has the midi-chlorian count of an ambitious farmer.”

Yoda held up the dream interpretation book. “Numbers lie. Force doesn’t.” He looked as if he was about to say more, but he spied something else in the last carton. “ _Oh!_ Found it you did! Thought lost this was he did!” In another surprising feat of strength, Yoda pulled the large illuminated book out of the box, eyes wide. “Master Turvis got it did not.” He popped the latch on the first try and opened it to admire the text and illustrations. “Damaged it is not, good this is.”

“Is Little Bird in there?” Qui-Gon asked.

Yoda seemed to grow solemn as he flipped through the pages to the Table of Contents. “Yes. In here he is.” He did not elaborate further, just closed and latched the book before carefully placing it back in the carton. “Happy he will be to get this back.” Yoda closed the carton, then used the Force to slowly levitate it to the corner with the others. Not wanting to interrupt (Qui-Gon knew that box was heavy as hell), he casually looked around the room, passively feeling it with the Force, observing without leaving much trace behind. Most of the furniture was standard but not all and the throw pillows and small rugs felt very new. There was nothing in the way of knick knacks, but Obi-Wan had been putting things up on the walls. A simple workbench had been set up along the back wall (Knight’s quarters did not include a study unless they were doubles) and a small poster showing the schematics of a lightsaber was hung above it. Qui-Gon thought such art was in questionable taste (not to mention security, why wasn’t Cin cracking down on things like this?) but it was very elegantly done. The saber hilt was drawn four times scale and the internal and external components were clearly rendered.

It wasn’t until Qui-Gon stepped closer that he realized this wasn’t a commercially available art print, it was a mechanical drawing of a multi-crystal lightsaber that Obi-Wan was in the process of building. Rather than use the Temple software to cobble together a new blade from a pre-existing template, Obi-Wan had started from scratch and a pencil-scratch at that. He wanted to understand his weapon inside and out and had gone over each detail meticulously. There were small notes on the edges in both his hand and another, probably the Weaponsmith Master if Qui-Gon would hazard to guess. The design itself was ambitious in that it was a multi-crystal blade but was for the most part typical as far as the blade and power systems went. (There were only so many ways to skin a cat). There were some unusual adaptations in the casing. Qui-Gon puzzled over them.

“If he’s trying to make an underwater saber, that’s not going to work.”

Yoda came over, looking displeased with Qui-Gon’s snooping. “Water resistance is goal, not water combat. Dream he had of battle in rain on stormy sea. Started design over.”

Qui-Gon tilted his head, looking it over. The design was more complicated but if it worked such a saber could stand up to wetter conditions. He hoped it wouldn’t give Obi-Wan a false sense of security. “It’s well thought out.” _If he can manage to build it_.

“Yes. Weaponsmith and Crystal Masters optimistic are. On next rest period should finish.” Yoda began walking toward the door. Qui-Gon could feel the little green troll hinting he should do the same.

On the adjacent wall Obi-Wan had hung the missing flat pics from his padawan room, and a large art print, framed and matted. There were several of Bant, Garen, Reeft, Siri and his other agemates. He could tell by Obi-Wan’s longer hair that some of these were new. One was a candid shot of him waltzing with Rouge Organa and another was of him with two other knights that Qui-Gon was quite sure had gotten the Organa Girls Beauty Treatment. One of said knights was definitely Quinlan Vos.

“It looks like he’s _socializing_.” The word tasted bitter and it came out through his tone.

“Making friends he is,” Yoda paused, looking at the framed print, his expression surprised but pleased. “Putting friends on friend wall.”

“I was under the impression he was dating Vos.”

“No,” Yoda shook his head. “Not yet.”

Qui-Gon blinked at him in surprise, then thought it over. He really hadn’t heard anything specific. “Not _yet_?”

“Live in moment you do. Want to know future, study Unifying Force you should.”

Qui-Gon peered at the art print. “Is that someone from the sagas? Master Tokare? Nehi the Wise?”

“Yes,” Yoda rolled his eyes. “Knight Yoda.”

“Oh,” Qui-Gon looked at the print again. “On his friend wall.”

“Expect this honor I did not.”

There were no images of Qui-Gon himself on the wall, nor anywhere visible in the apartment. He walked back over to the sledge, not wanting to forget and anger Eller.

“You’ve always been very invested in Obi-Wan. Given his counts, performance and temperament, I’ve never been able to understand why.”

Yoda scowled. “Understand a lot you do not.”

“Enlighten me. It’s clear you’re still involved in his training.”

“When start to doubt me did you? Do what I have to lose your trust?”

“I trust you, Master. We have our differences, but I trust that you do what you feel is right and you feel you follow the will of the Force.”

“But don’t understand, so wrong I must be?”

“I trust the Force.”

“Trust your feelings you do. Confuse self will with will of Force you should not.”

It was something every Jedi had to be aware of, but the reminder stung.

“How many times show you Obi-Wan as initiate did I?”

“Twice that I recall. Maybe three times? I didn’t care to commit that time to memory.”

“Six times.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“First time when Xanatos still your padawan was. Rude remark he made.”

“You thought I should have trained him _before_ Xan fell?”

“Yes. Quite clear Force was, even when small child he was. Short list of masters. On it you were.”

Qui-Gon paused, resting his elbows on the control panel of the sledge. “I always thought you recommended Obi-Wan because he was low stakes. That the risk of failure was low if his only other option was the Agri-Corps.”

Yoda stared at him, eyes blazing in anger. After a long moment, the tiny master closed his eyes and released the emotion to the Force. “Qui-Gon Jinn, one of the best diplomats in the Order you were. Strong in Living Force, exceptionally so. Difficult missions you had. Dangerous missions you had. Honestly believe you do that entrust to you I would a child not able to keep up? Think you do that throw weak child into danger I would so farmer he would not be?”

Qui-Gon reared back as if struck. Yoda might be sentimental, but he was not a fool. “Why didn’t the other masters on your short list take him?”

Yoda sighed, looking out across the apartment but seeing the past. “Too low they thought his counts were. Too one-sided his talents were. Too quiet Force presence was when sparring not. Uninterested in other talents.”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “It wasn’t his temper?”

“Even-tempered he was until age of twelve and still chosen not.”

“It didn’t go away just because he became a padawan.”

“Spent whole apprenticeship waiting to be rejected because satisfy you he could not.”

“He was thirteen and in the Agri Corps. He _should_ have been grateful, not a snot-nosed brat who threw away his last chance to escape a deserved life of drudgery for a pretty girl in a war zone.”

“If strong bond had with master, if trust had, not throw away trappings of padawan he would to help defenseless.”

“You think his decision was . . . selfless?”

“Hormones play role, yes. But raised from infancy that role was to serve. Not all seductions made with sex, greed, power. Did not work for years to become padawan, to become knight to abandon people, to leave them behind. If cause more noble than own calling, if do more good than he could as always failing padawan, why stay on path should he? Almost lose him after Mandalore too, not because Duchess Kryze pretty girl was.”

“I did?” Qui-Gon knew it was a very stressful time, but he hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would have seriously considered leaving the Order _again_. “I knew he had feelings for her, and I reminded him of his vows.” He crossed his arms. “I honestly thought they were fooling around but that she wasn’t stupid enough to actually have sex with him.”

“Trust him you did not padawan vows to keep?”

_It would have been a way out of S-training._

“I knew my ability to properly supervise two young, hormonal people was compromised by the greater need to keep us all alive.”

“If truly knew him you did, know where real danger was you would.”

“Real danger?”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Seduced he would not be by pretty face or good body. Good cause might win his mind, but only trust open heart will to love.”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “What, you think he trusts Vos?”

“Exactly,” Yoda narrowed his eyes at Qui-Gon. “ _Not. Yet._ ”

Qui-Gon thought back on his memories of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. “He never really seemed all that interested in love, Master. If he were, I doubt he would have complied with . . . my rules.”

Yoda gave him a very disappointed look. “Understand him so little you do.” He threw up his hands in disgust. “Interested in _sex_ he was not. _Loved you_ he did. Very much. Wanted to please you he did. Wanted to make you proud. Wanted to screw you Xanatos did. Wanted to earn your trust Obi-Wan did.”

“You think he deserved my trust? Even after he turned his back on me and you?”

“Mistake he made, yes. Thirteen years old he was. Paid for mistake he did. Five long years he paid. Put up with your anger and coldness. Put up with cruel taunts from agemates. Ostracized in Temple he was. Left alone with fears, do nothing you would to help. Expect him to endure alone you did. Expect him to do what you did? Turn to Dark Side? Go back in time and undo mistake? Be perfect and never make mistake again? Become knight without you risking heart? Go away when better prospect came along, when boy with shiny midi-chlorian count you find?”

It was amazing how much Master Yoda sounded like Tahl.

Yoda froze suddenly. “ _No_. Expected him to violate probation you did. Expected him to fail trials you did.”

Qui-Gon was quiet for a long time. “I did not want that to happen, but yes, I _did_ expect those things to happen. What did _you_ expect to happen?”

“Expected you to fight for him we did. Expected you to protest long probation we did. Expected you to send him to trials three years ago and not hold him back. Expected you to forgive mistakes of his youth. Expected you to cut braid with pride in eyes, not for me to do. Expected you to see him for luminous star he is, not just for dark path he did not take. Still hung up on Xanatos you are, when shine brighter he does than Xanatos ever could.”

“If I were such a poor master to him, perhaps he should have stayed on Bandomeer then.”

“Speak this cruelty to him or just let him think it did you?”

Qui-Gon sighed. More fodder for his therapist. “I don’t know what to say, Master. I can’t go back in time and change any of my mistakes anymore than he can. I thought as his master I gave him a chance he wouldn’t have had. I tried to ensure he _would_ have a chance, and that he would not fall prey to the same hubris Xanatos did. But I did not feel he measured up. I did not feel he attained the serenity, wisdom and confidence to be an independent knight.”

“Trust him to be independent knight you did not. Not even when killed Sith he did and almost died trying to keep you alive. Still waiting you were to be stabbed in the back to match blow in front.”

Qui-Gon gave him a confused look.

“Realize that you did not? Naboo healers did not either. Recover quickly youth does. Medics found you before lost consciousness he did. Midi-chlorian count elevated for days was.”

It was clear from his expression that Qui-Gon did not understand.

“Last time that happened, nearly die of fever he did.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Numbers lie.”

Qui-Gon scoffed. “If counts lie, why would no other master have him? Why did you send him off to Bandomeer? If his training was so important why did you send him to the Agri Corps?”

Yoda gave him another narrow-eyed stare. “Send him to Bandomeer I did. Let him _stay there_ I would never. One more master still on list. Thought better choice you were. Younger. Healthier. Active in field. If take him not, send for him I would have. Clear Force was. Farmer he was not.”

“This other master would have taken him?” Qui-Gon seemed stunned by this.

“Decided it was. Force said your padawan he should be. Force did not say only option you were.”

Strangely this was a hard blow to his ego.

“Considered Council did removing him from your care when sixteen he was.”

“Why didn’t you?” He could admit that hadn’t been a terrible idea at the time. “The other master wouldn’t take him?”

“Still available was. Felt breaking bond would cause more harm than good. Expected you to do so nine years later we did not.” Yoda sighed. “Understand you do why trust you with padawans we no longer can?”

Qui-Gon released his own anger into the Force. It was rare he had an actual fight with Yoda, but somehow, after he released the pain of whatever the tiny green shit dredged up, he always felt better after. “I’m starting to.”

“Good.” Yoda walked back into the room and sat down facing the pictures on the friend wall. “Take sledge to elevator. Eller’s wrath I do not want. Salon I have next week. Come you should. Talk about happy things we will.”

He was not forgiven. It was very clear that Yoda was still very disappointed in him. But there was a path out of this briar patch if he would be humble enough to take it.

“I’d like that.” He watched as Yoda settled into a meditation pose. “Did you need anything, Master?”

“Cleansing room I am. Rude to leave our anger here. Can get home I can. Go. Rest. Meditate. Figure out how to go forward we will if trust again we can.”

Qui-Gon nodded, then pushed the sledge toward the door.

Yoda closed his eyes.

“He loved me?”

“Deeply.”

“Does he still love me?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love him, Master.”

Yoda was silent for a long time. “Sorry I am too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much going on in this chapter. 
> 
> Isn't that a gorgeous picture?
> 
> Breggle, the game Yoda is teaching Obi-Wan, was partially inspired by the tile floor scene in flamethrower's _Re-Entry: Waking Dream_ which is a wonderful series, though I've only read the first few stories in it. It was also inspired by rhythmic gymnastics and Chinese ribbon dances, and those are the kinds of movements they are trying to make with lines of glass pebbles when doing the snake technique, but using the Force instead of moving their bodies.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJTSIYmROBI
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcLbLXImE1A
> 
> Any thoughts about Quinlan and art? Yoda's mentoring? Qui-Gon's revelations and misconceptions?


	6. Part VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan fires up his new lightsaber for the first time, then meets some of Master Yoda's friends (and one person who doesn't have friends), gets a shoulder massage and an evaluation. Master Si gets a mental kick in the pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from _Firework_ by Katy Perry.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGJuMBdaqIw
> 
> This was a fun chapter to write, getting into some of the other types of Jedi who might live in the Temple. Unfortunately, this is also where the Original Character Takeover started. Don't worry, we don't lose Obi-Wan and company, we just developed subplots no one wanted or needed.
> 
> We also get into lightsaber forms in this chapter, and I have no idea how so much lightsaber stuff ended up in here, because I was always picked last for gym class, and have absolutely no experience with swordwork or martial arts. To write this chapter, I had to consult Wookiepedia, and I'm quite sure I didn't get all the details right. There are at least seven lightsaber forms used by the Jedi of this era, so I'll provide a quick summary. Note with my limited understanding, this summary may be WRONG. Also when I checked back with Wookiepedia to write this small summary (less than a year later) the canon content had been taken out almost entirely and was in the process of being rewritten. (Damn you, Disney! Stop changing shit! You have plenty to work with already!)
> 
> https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Lightsaber_combat_forms
> 
> Form 1: Shii-Cho: the most ancient style, not designed for saber/saber dueling. (I had the impression initiates started with this, but this could be wrong.)  
> Form 2: Makashi: suited for lightsaber dueling, similar to sword dueling (Dooku's canon form)  
> Form 3: Soresu: defensive form, initially against blasters, but also in dueling, wears down the opponent until an opening presents itself (in canon Obi-Wan takes up Soresu after Qui-Gon's death)  
> Form 4: Ataru: aggressive, acrobatic form (in canon Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon use this against Darth Maul)  
> Form 5: Shien and Djem So. Form 5 attempts to bring more aggression to saber fighting than Form 3. Shien is characterized by redirecting blaster bolts, and Djem So is more designed for combat. Form 5 tries to create openings in a fight to attack, rather than waiting like Form 3. (In canon, Ahsoka uses Shien, and Anakin uses Djem So in ROTS).  
> Form 6: Niman: both offense and defense, a more general form taken up by Jedi that specialized in other fields, not lightsaber combat, but also versatile. (In Legends many Jedi used this form in addition to other forms).  
> Form 7: Juyo and Vapad: very aggressive and emotional form, Juyo was not practiced openly and Vapad was developed by Mace Windu. Juyo fell out of favor as it often led to the Dark Side, and Vapad was practiced by very few. (In canon Form 7 is not generally taught to most Jedi. In my story, most Jedi consider the first 6 forms to be the Jedi forms).
> 
> **WARNING** : non-consensual groping.

_You just gotta ignite, the light, and let it shine._

_Just own the night like the 4th of July,_

_'Cause baby you're a firework_

_Come on, show 'em what you're worth._

\-- Sandy Wilhelm, Mikkel Eriksen, Tor Hermansen, Katy Perry, Ester Dean, “Firework”

Master Drallig looked up, his usual grim expression on his face as a small herd of initiates filed into the workshop, followed by the Crystal Master, the Weaponsmith Master, their instructor and Master Yoda. It was First Lighting, a quarterly event wherein participants in saber building classes of all levels turned on their sabers for the first time (or for the first time publically). It was open to any interested Jedi to attend as it afforded the opportunity to see new construction techniques and hear about what challenges other Jedi were facing.

It was also an excellent opportunity for padawans and initiates to see a variety of different sabers, to feel them with the Force and to see the designs up close. Not to mention masters and knights with professional interest or just curiosity. And after the show and fireworks there would be light refreshment.

There were always fireworks. Master Noughten made sure.

Instead of supporting various Jedi hard at work, the stools were tucked under the table and at each workstation a lightsaber hilt rested in the working stand and a printout or a datascreen showing the design or internal components was displayed. A small, hand-written card with the builder’s name and a description of goals or construction issues was also included. The builders themselves were not present, waiting in an antechamber ahead of the ceremony.

There was the usual mix of skill levels. Several hilts were the first small practice sabers of initiates, adorned with initials, bands of color or simple symbols etched into the metal. The instructors encouraged initiates to keep the hilt designs simple due to how fast tiny hands grew and how soon these training tools would be replaced with real weapons, so the younglings opted for superficial decoration as a means to clearly tell each other’s sabers apart. One of them had a frankly hilarious cartoon bantha on the hilt.

Cin walked through the padawan hilts next. The sizes varied considerably given that apprenticeship spanned puberty for most species. Some were replacement sabers when previous ones were lost, broken or damaged. Some were refinements on existing sabers, usually to increase power capacity, or repairs that did not require a full overhaul. Others were rebuilds due to growing hands. If a previous saber was available, intact or in parts, it was also on display. There was one saber with a misaligned crystal among the set, but since the name on the card was the main character of a somewhat humorous series of detective novels, Cin knew this one was the intentionally defective saber Master Noughten cobbled together to impress upon the younger initiates the dangers of not building their sabers just so. Fireworks were a go.

The knights and masters were next. These were also heterogeneous. Some were again repairs and replacements. Some were single crystal, some were multi-crystal. He was surprised to see Jinn’s last padawan had built a new saber already, but his single crystal saber was also on display and intact, so clearly he hadn’t lost it. Still, he had spent many hours analyzing the footage from the battle with the Sith, and if any experience could prod a young knight to build a multi-crystal saber, that would be it. He looked over the hilt design with a practiced eye, appreciating the time taken to think out every aspect of the weapon and its use. It was clear the previous single crystal saber, while functional, was meant to be utilitarian, with only minimal specialization to the user. Not quite generic but done without fuss in favor of expediency. This new one would be a considerable upgrade and the design was sound.

Just behind him, a small group of knights were looking over the sabers, chatting about the designs. Apparently, Kenobi was the first of his social group to build a multi-crystal blade and there was much speculation as to whether it would ignite or blow up. Cin held a hand over the hilt, feeling the trio of crystals. He kept his usual stern expression, giving nothing away, but this weapon was singing, shining in the Force. Forget First Lighting, he wanted to see this one in the salle. Kenobi had requested to attend his saber form workshop. He had been putting him off, tightening the forms on weaker knights taking priority over one who already survived a fight with a Sith, but the time seemed right now. A new weapon was a good reason to refine one’s repertoire.

“Finally finished it he did,” Master Yoda was perched on Master Noughten’s shoulder, examining and admiring the different weapons.

“I’m impressed,” Noughten held a hand over the hilt like Cin had done. “Last time he was in the workshop he was still revising the design and adjusting the brackets.” Like Cin, he gave no indication one way or the other about the quality of the construction, but his Force presence remained untroubled. Unintentional fireworks made him nervous when there were younglings about.

Yoda leaned forward, strong enough to feel the saber from several feet away. “Hmmm,” the tiny master caught his former padawan’s eye, and Cin laughed internally. The master was pleased, but the knights continued to debate.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Jitters asked as they finally reached Obi-Wan’s saber.

“The saber? Don’t know. The ceremony? Yes.” Kressa leaned down to peer at the hilt design. “They light the sabers in a safe room the first time. No one is going to die.”

“Jitters might,” Quinlan came by next, reaching out his hand to feel the saber. “No blast shield can stop a heart attack.” The saber felt strongly of Obi-Wan, _no surprise there_ , and he could see his neighbor in his mind’s eye working on it during early mornings and late into the night, each component saturated with his Force presence. He ran his fingers over the mechanical drawing, and it was almost more interesting than the saber itself. Not for the first time his fingers itched to explore Obi-Wan’s other art works, but he had never seen them displayed.

“Interesting,” Bant puzzled over the design. “Not an underwater saber, but I like it. If it works.”

“You get sent to damp planets, Bant?”

“Oh, yes. It makes sense of course, but I’m not actually underwater on every assignment. Sometimes I’m just in wet climates or swampy land. A lot of the time by the end of the mission I’m the only one on the team whose saber hasn’t shorted out at least once.”

“It’s weird,” Jitters was peering at the schematic. “Weird sabers blow up.”

“Obi-Wan said they were going to test the water resistance too.” Bant reached for the hilt, feeling the rightness in the Force.

Jitters did the same, then poked at the blade end with a finger. Although he was a knight, his talents had been strongest in engineering, though more in optimizing ships, speeders and other vehicles for Force-enhanced pilots rather than sabers. “Innovations always have casualties. I say it’s gonna blow.”

“Pessimist!” Kressa rolled her eyes.

“Realist!” Jitters looked up to move on to the next saber and caught sight of Master Yoda riding around on Master Noughten. “Um, the Grandmaster is here.”

“Don’t even start!” Kressa warned.

“This sounds like his kind of thing,” Quinlan added. “I think I’ve seen him at these before.”

“I remember him taking our class as initiates. He loves First Lighting.”

On the other side of the room, the initiates who had not yet built their first sabers were looking over the padawan hilts with their instructor. Master Noughten, still carrying Master Yoda, came over to walk them through the lesson.

“As you know Initiates, an improperly built lightsaber is a dangerous lightsaber. Do you know what happens if the crystals are not aligned properly?”

“It blows up!” the group cheered in enthusiastic unison. Their instructor explained that an older initiate had told them about a very exciting explosion at the last First Lighting.

“When make first saber you do, careful you must be.” Master Yoda looked them ove, ensuring he had their attention. “Explosions sound exciting do, but dangerous they are. Hurt you they can. Kill you they can. First Lighting we do in safe way in case mistake we make. Time is now to double check. Go, feel lightsabers with Force, but touch not. Learn what good, sound saber feels like does, learn what mistake feels like too. Then, go to watch we will. If mistake made was, set up it is so hurt no one will get.”

The initiates began to walk through the displays again while their elders filed into the observation lounge. Anakin walked from saber to saber, trying to hear them sing like Master Qui-Gon’s had done. The initiate sabers, with their low power supplies and low capacity crystals, were fairly boring to his senses, but he knew his older classmates were very excited about them, and next quarter it would be his turn. He really didn’t want to start out with a _baby saber_ but Master Qui-Gon said those hurt a lot less when you made mistakes during drills, and it would be nice to have one of his own.

The padawan sabers were much cooler than the practice sabers, but they were single crystal, so they only sang a single note in the Force. But they were _real_ lightsabers and they could cut through stuff. Anakin had been hoping Master Qui-Gon had been joking about waiting until knighthood to make a lightsaber like his, but so far, his classes had all confirmed this. When he got to the third hilt, he immediately realized something was wrong.

He frowned at it, confused. It wasn’t singing like the others. It sounded angry, out of harmony. He sensed danger here. He wondered if it was supposed to alert someone or if he was supposed to keep silent. Anakin looked around for his instructor and was surprised to find Master Noughten next to him.  
  
“How does this saber feel to you, Initiate?”

Anakin shrugged at him. “It feels wrong.”

“Could someone have made a mistake?”

It didn’t feel like an accident. It was wrong, but as if It were planned to be wrong. “It isn’t right, but it’s not a mistake.”

Master Noughten leaned down. “We wouldn’t want you to not have a chance to feel what it’s like when things go wrong.” He winked. “That way you will know if you’ve made a mistake before it blows up.”

Anakin nodded and opted to keep silent. Master Yoda had said they would be safe. This might actually be fun. He continued down the line.

The rest of the padawan sabers all felt similar in the Force, but the casing designs were very different. Some were very short and slim like the hilt Master Yoda carried around. Others were similar in scale to the saber he watched Obi-Wan make when Master Jinn was recovering. None of them were as large as Master Qui-Gon’s, but his hands were _huge_ , so maybe it wasn’t _that_ surprising. Eventually he reached the knights’ and masters’ sabers and some of them were wizard.

About half of these sabers were still single-crystal, but they sang more clearly and were often more powerful than the padawan weapons. The stones were cleaner, with fewer imperfections, and Anakin suspected they were probably more expensive too. Most of the knights had broken or missing sabers they were replacing. Anakin was surprised so many Jedi lost their sabers since Obi-Wan had seemed so embarrassed about losing his, but none of them felt ‘wrong’ so at least they were making the new ones right.

Most of the mult-crystal blades were made by masters (two of whom were just recently elevated), but Obi-Wan wasn’t the only knight to do so, just the youngest this quarter. The multi-crystal blades all sang, not quite the same was as Master Qui-Gon’s , but in their own voices. All of them sang in different harmonies, all of them were more powerful than the single crystal blades, but Anakin was surprised that he liked some single crystal sabers as much or more than some of these. Some of the multi-crystal blades had been labored over, they felt like some of the pod engines he had seen on Tattoine that weren’t all pre-made parts. Others felt like the lightsaber he’d seen Obi-Wan make. Simple, stripped down, and finished as soon as possible.

Anakin was surprised to see Obi-Wan’s name and both his old and new lightsabers. It was really neat to feel how different they were. He was familiar with the still kind of new single-cystal blade, but the new multi-crystal blade was _really_ neat. Like Master Qui-Gon’s, it sang, and it sang _loudly_ , but in a very different voice. Sweet, pure, and clean, like a brand new pod engine, perfectly tuned and aligned, ready to burn across the desert sands. The other one felt like a speeder. It would take you where you needed to go, but it was just a tool. The new one was just . . . more.

Anakin heard a scraping sound and looked down to see Master Yoda pulling out the stool from below the workbench. To his surprise, the tiny master climbed up the stool so he could join him on top of the bench.

“Interests you this lightsaber does?”

Anakin nodded. Master Yoda made him nervous.

Yoda held out a clawed hand toward the lightsaber hilt, as if warming it by a fire. “Singing it is, hear it you can?”

“Yes.” He knew he should probably say ‘yes, Master Yoda’ like the other initiates, but the elder didn’t reprimand him.

“Much time it takes, much learning and practice to make saber like this. Good weapon this is. Serve Obi-Wan well it will.”

“Master Qui-Gon said he built the other one really fast.”

Yoda leaned over and gestured for Ani to hold out one hand to each saber. “Rush he did not, but did not want to be long without weapon. Two very different sabers. Sometimes must solve problem quickly, no finesse. Sometimes have time to do very best work. Good that both he has. Practice he will need to use new blade well, but worth time and effort it will be.”

“But what if it blows up?”

Master Yoda looked at him steadily. Anakin wondered if he as reading his thoughts again. “Think you do that blow up it will?”

“No,” Anakin shrugged. “But it sings so loud.”

“Heh, new it is. All parts well made, aligned, calibrated. Force strong in crystals, much Force in hilt. Eager to turn on it is. Bright it will be, but explosion I think not.” A chime sounded to encourage the initiates and stragglers to enter the observation lounge. Master Yoda nodded at the new saber, then climbed back down the stool. “Come, Anakin. Time for show it is. Think you do, all sabers good or not?”

Anakin pushed the stool back in while Master Yoda straightened his robe and picked up his gimer stick. “I think one of them back there was done wrong.”

“Bad singer was it?”

“Yes, but I don’t think it was a mistake.”

“Hmmm,” Yoda looked at him for a long moment. “Better sometimes it is to learn from fake mistakes then real ones, yes?”

“Are they really going to turn it on?”

“Yes.” Master Yoda reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out two foam cylinders, then stuffed them into his ears. “Go with class. Wear ear plugs. Loud this will get.”

Anakin gave him a dubious look. “Okay.” Usually grownups didn’t like it when things exploded, but maybe that was just his mom. And Watto.

Anakin joined his classmates and took a pair of the ear plugs his instructor was handing out, then sat on one of the benches near the front of the room. The group of knights were talking loudly in the back of the room, and when Knight Vos turned, Anakin realized they weren’t trying to be rude, but wearing their ear plugs too. Anakin put in his own.

Master Yoda came into the lounge, followed by Master Noughten. The tiny master climbed the stairs until he was just past the initiates, then headed down the row, stopping next to Master Drallig and Master Igneous, the Crystal Master. Cin offered him a hand up and he settled onto a thick cushion that had been provided for him. Master Noughten went to the front of the lounge and called the first initiate. One of the padawans who was testing their saber later led each initiate into the testing room. The padawan helped each initiate put their sabers into the holders behind the transparent blast shields, then escorted them out to the safe zone. On the other side of the safety glass, the audience sat and listened to Master Noughten introduce each one and comment on their building skills.

When all three initate sabers were properly positioned, Master Noughten reached out with the Force to activate them, knowing that having nervous initiates attempt this would be asking for trouble. All three fired up, but one of them had sparks shooting out along with the blade. All three of the younglings were congratulated by Master Noughten and with applause from the audience, though the one with the sparks were instructed to get assistance cleaning and smoothing down the inside of the hilt before turning it on again. It was a minor issue, common in first sabers, but could lead to burns if not corrected.

The initates's new sabers were put on the display table and the initates joined the others in the lounge. The padawans were up next. As each padawan was announced, Master Noughten held up the saber and asked the initiates whether they thought the weapon was sound or if the padawan had made a mistake. For each saber there were always one or two who thought the saber would blow up, some that were unsure and some who thought it was good. The padawans were entrusted to turn on their own sabers. When they got to the fireworks, a padawan answering to the false name and wearing an obvious wig came forward. More than half the initiate class thought the saber would blow up and another quarter were unsure. The ‘padawan’ seemed dismayed but was determined to go on. Master Noughten cautioned them, pointing out that it did no good to rush ahead on something like this. The ‘padawan’ asked the class what they thought was wrong. Answers ranged from ‘the crystals felt funny’ to ‘the Force said so.’ By the time the ‘padawan’ insisted they had done it correctly and put the saber into the clamps, most of the initiates were protesting, although several were openly hoping to see it blow up.

The ‘padawan’ was directed to the safe zone and with one more insistent declaration that the saber was sound, he activated it. The explosion was small, contained and spectacular. Shrapnel flew everywhere. There was smoke, flames, and arcs of lightning-like electrical discharges. After a moment the fire suppression system kicked on and water rained down on the box. Master Noughten questioned the initiates again about how the saber had felt, thanked the ‘padawan’ for their participation (and admonished them to meditate on the experience) and reassured them they would do better next time. There was a short break while the water, shrapnel, and debris were cleaned out. The audience conversed loudly amongst themselves. Several initiates were a bit giddy over the explosion, one was near tears, but most were simply impressed and appropriately made aware of the dangers. Ani was pretty sure _his_ saber wasn’t going to blow up (or at least he felt he would know if it wasn’t right), but Master Yoda was right, the explosion was _loud_. Based on the exclamations from the knights in the back, he wasn’t the only one who found it kind of fun too.

Master Noughten called up the knights with single crystal blades next and these went fairly quickly. No major problems, a few jokes about where the previous sabers had gone. The knights were also asked to demonstrate the stability of their blades, taking them out of the clamps and moving them around before moving on to the next. And then it was Obi-Wan’s turn.

Anakin almost didn’t recognize him. His hair had grown out of his padawan cut, and it looked much lighter. His tunics were the darker beige of a knight (which Ani had seen him wear before) and he felt much calmer than the boy remembered him being, more like the older knights he had met.

Master Noughten introduced him, mentioned this was his first multi-crystal saber and that he was hoping it was water resistant. Master Noughten asked the initiates what happens to wet sabers. Several of them answered correctly that they short out and won’t work, though a few were openly hoping for another explosion.

By this time Obi-Wan had put the new saber on the stand (his old one now hanging on his belt) and the safety doors had been shut. Several of the knights in the back waved and called as he made his way to the safe spot. When Anakin glanced back at them, one of the knights was covering his eyes. Master Noughten gave the signal.

There was no explosion. The blade came to life, brilliant blue, the Force singing loudly as the crystals harmonized and everything did exactly what it was supposed to do. Several of the knights whooped and cheered. Obi-Wan looked the slightest bit relieved, Master Noughten even smiled at it.

Cin Drallig’s expression did not change, but he opened himself to the Force, feeling the rightness of the blade. This was a good one. This saber would long be used to defend the innocent and oppressed. This blade would also require practice and training to use and Kenobi would need guidance. He glanced at Master Yoda perched beside him. The tiny master wore a serene, almost smile, but Cin could tell he was practically beaming on the inside.

Master Noughten indicated Obi-Wan should retrieve the saber and demonstrate the balance and stability of the blade. Obi-Wan obliged, earning some quiet applause (and another cheer from the knights) when there was no sputtering or irregularities in the beam. After a minute or so, Obi-Wan powered down the blade and re-entered the test chamber to put the saber back in the clamp so the water resistance could be tested. He had just barely gotten the unlit saber secured when the fire suppression system suddenly came on at high pressure, drenching both himself and his weapon. The shocked expression on his face was hilarious.

Obi-Wan stumbled out of the safe room, visibly restraining himself from swearing like a space pirate in front of a room of initiates. The children laughed at the sight of a grown up doused in water, while some of the knights whistled and catcalled. Anakin had lived on Tattooine long enough to know what that kind of response meant, but no one he knew there would _dare_ to waste water like that, so he wasn’t sure why the younger grownups found that exciting. Obi-Wan gave Master Noughten an unamused look before turning his glare on the younger knights.

“Stop that,” he called. “There are impressionable younglings present!”

The knights subsided into laughter. Water dripped out of Ob-Wan’s hair as the hilt continued to get doused in the box.

“Yes,” Master Yoda agreed. “Look funny they think you do.” The tiny master’s eyes were dancing. The children laughed and Obi-Wan sighed and closed the safety door, mostly to keep in the water.

“You did want to test the water resistance,” Master Noughten reminded him. It was unclear if the dousing was mistimed or intentional. Slowly, the water petered out.

The young knight looked like a drowned rat, hair gone wet and stringy, tabard drooping, water trickling down his neck and into his tunics. When most of the water had dripped down the sides of the clear safety chamber and the saber could be clearly seen, Obi-Wan activated the saber again. Rather than shorting out as most of the observers had been expecting after the ‘rain,’ it flared right back to life, shining just as bright as it had moments before. Obi-Wan shone pretty bright too, earning another wolf whistle, but this time it was from an observing master, so it was probably in reference to the lightsaber.

Obi-Wan doused the blade and carefully dried the hilt of his saber and put it on the display table before entering the observation lounge. Yoda gave him a nod of approval as he passed on his way to join the knights, where he received congratulations and well-meaning, if damp, backslaps.

After the fireworks and water show the last two multi-crystal blades weren’t nearly as exciting, although the last master claimed his lightsaber was lost to the spit of a giant, metal-dissolving worm he had encountered on an asteroid. (Anakin wasn’t sure if this was serious or not, but guessed he’d probably learn when he went out on missions). After the last saber was tested there was another round of applause, everyone got one last look at the sabers as they filed out, the builders could finally retrieve their weapons and there was food. (The initiates were almost as excited about _that_ as they were over the explosion).

Cin had missed lunch and was quite pleased to partake of the spread. Master Yoda was perched on the Crystal Master’s shoulder (he liked to spread the ‘riding duties’ around, it let him socialize more easily and he was aware he was surprisingly heavy for his size). Cin opted to stand in a corner. He knew his stern expression sometimes scared people off, but he was also the Battlemaster, so there were always people who had issues to discuss with him. A stern demeanor stemmed the flow, and in truth his good friends didn’t mind.

The initiates were clustered together, most stunned they were allowed to be at a social event with grownups. Their conversation seemed to mostly consist of large hand gestures and sound effects of explosions and lightsabers. Fairly typical. After a turn through the buffet, Master Yoda and Master Igneous headed over to Cin’s corner.

“Very nice work this quarter,” Master Igneous nodded. “The younglings did well, and their younger classmates are more engaged. Nothing like a good explosion to get their attention.”

“Very loud was,” Master Yoda looked around the room in approval. “Many good sabers. Good crystal harmonics.”

“I know Kenobi was starting to despair that he would not find a good set. We had to wait for a new shipment, but it seems to have paid off in the end.”

“Very different is to build saber when on time pressure not.”

“Why did he want a water-resistant saber?” Cin asked. It wasn’t unheard of, but most Jedi did not bother unless they tended to be sent into particularly wet environments.

Yoda gave him a look that said he should probably talk to the knight himself instead of about him. “Dream he had of future fight in driving rain. Able to defend self well was not.”

“Listening to the Force? Good, good,” Master Igneous smiled out at the room, glad to see the stones were all going off to good homes.

“Were you able to salvage anything from the fireworks?” Cin knew crystals were a precious resource, but there were ample unsuitable crystals to use for these demonstrations.

“Yes, actually,” Master Igneous took a sip of his punch. “Believe it or not we get a lot of multi-crystal stones this way. That particular crystal had impurities in it and was going to be difficult to break to best use. We opted to trust in the Force and blow it up. The weaker section cleaved off quite nicely, leaving a stone suitable for either a multi-crystal saber or a light dagger, and another stone to blow up next quarter. We might even get another stone out of it next time.”

“Best use of resources is.”

Master Igneous reached into his pocket and held out the two stones and some chips. “We’ll use the smallest ones as sample stones. This was quite a nice shipment actually, the stone we used was an outlier.”

“It was quite the explosion.”

“Yes, Noughten’s padawan has a great talent for making some spectacularly _bad_ lightsabers, but then he’s seen many mistakes and is still young enough to find it fun. He also has a gift for positioning the crystals just so, so they break well.

“Is that who was under the wig?” Cin asked.

“Yes!” Master Igneous chuckled. “He has to disguise himself because the younglings won’t trust his advice and assistance after they’ve watched him blow up a saber the quarter before. He has quite the collection of bad padawan wigs.”

“Purple one my favorite is.”

All three masters had a good chuckle over the whole thing before Master Igneous excused himself (and let Master Yoda down) so he could show the crystal shrapnel to the younglings. Rather than offer his shoulder, Cin opted to kneel to speak with Master Yoda more easily.

“Something on your mind there is?”

“Yes, Master.” He winced apologetically. “I was wondering how long the Council was planning on keeping Kenobi in Temple.”

“Hmm?” Yoda looked more curious than disapproving, knowing that asking Obi-Wan directly would be pointless as he would have no way to know beyond a week or two. “Have something in mind you do?”

“He’s petitioned to attend my workshop since his Trials. I’ve had knights that were in greater need of instruction until now, but he’ll need a good chunk of time to learn to use that new saber of his.”

“Yes . . .” Master Yoda nodded, agreeing with his assessment. “Ask Qui-Gon Jinn for assistance he cannot.”

“Are they still on the outs?” Cin scoffed.

“Yes,” Yoda looked him in the eye. “Expect that to change do not.”

“Too bad. They were a good team.”

“Shame it _is_ ,” Yoda agreed. “Battle with Sith and issues with Qui-Gon have him concerned about form younger than most. If find time to help him, worth time it will be.”

“He’s always been ahead of his agemates in saberwork. I’ve never had major concerns with him.”

“Was Sith head of class?”

“Good point,” Cin glanced across the room to where the young knights were having a lively conversation. That Zabrack had scared the hell out of him. He could only imagine what it was like in person. “I want to put him into the long workshop, but I know that missions have to be a priority.”

“Check with Windu I must but feels right that does. Due longer break is. Other classes he must take as well, get done at same time he can.” Yoda nodded. “Yes. Right this is.” He pulled out his datapad to send Mace a message.

Cin raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to make you check right now, Master.”

“Want to forget I do not. Good opportunity is for him. Push for this himself he will not.”

“I did wonder if he was perhaps not serious about it.”

“Intimidate him you do. Taught to respect you he was. Ask politely he will, not demand. Quite serious he is.”

“I saw the saber. I can tell.”

“Working on confidence still. Good for him this will be.” Master Yoda’s datapad beeped twice. He checked it and smiled. “Approved it is. Removed him from mission roster Eller already has.”

Not for the first time, Cin wondered how fast the entire Jedi Order would grind to a halt if Eller caught a cold.

“Tell him you will?” Yoda asked.

Cin gave his former master a suspicious look. “You’re very invested, Master.”

“Force speaks of opportunity nearly lost. Waste it I will not.”

“Yes, Master.” With an internal sigh (Cin much preferred dealing with now and actual resources he could count on than potential, not that he didn’t plan for contingencies and concrete scenarios) he stood up and walked over to the gaggle of young knights. Kenobi had managed to get reasonably dry but still had a damp shop towel draped over his neck. He had both sabers hanging from his belt, though he kept the old one at the ready, knowing he could no rely on the other until he learned how to handle it. He was engaged in lively conversation with the other knights, each recounting various saber related disasters.

Cin cleared his throat and the conversation stopped abruptly. Occasionally he could use his intimidating aura to good effect, but in most social situations he just found it annoying. “Knight Kenobi?”

The young man turned around, stunned to be sought out by the Battlemaster. “Yes, Battlemaster Drallig?”

Normally this type of response would be slightly off-putting, almost patronizing, but when he opened his mind to the Force, he could feel respect and a little fear. The cause was unclear, usually Jedi of Kenobi’s talent tended to be more cocky and confident. The lack of cockiness was welcome, but he would have to make sure that deference ended at the salle door. It wasn’t clear where this came from. Qui-Gon Jinn had had confidence in spades (and his skill had justified it to a certain extent along with his Force talents), and he recalled Kenobi as being very competent in the salle when he was a padawan, but he did not seem to have fully grown into his status as a knight. Was this due to the shock of seeing his master stuck down, their falling out, or just not finding his feet yet? Regardless of the reason, in his experience Kenobi rose well if properly challenged.

“I have an opening in my knight level saber workshop. You had indicated wanting to tighten up you form and expand your repertoire. If you still want to do so, you are welcome to take the spot next week.”

“I would be honored, Master Drallig, but I don’t know when I’ll be put back on the mission roster.” As if junior knights ever did. Fresh, young knights without padawans had less responsibilities and tended to be worked harder and with less notice.

“Taken care of it has been,” Yoda called from the buffet where one of the taller initiates was filling a small plate for him.

Obi-Wan gave Master Yoda a suspicious look which Cin found rather funny, having worn a similar one himself many times in the years Yoda had been his master, and after.

“I can put in the request, Master Yoda.” His tone was cautious, torn between not wanting to seem incompetent nor ungrateful.

Yoda waved a hand. “Just expedient we are being. Know we do that capable you are.”

“I’ll send you the course schedule.”

“Thank you, Master Drallig, Master Yoda,” Kenobi bowed. “I look forward to your guidance.”

“Bring both of your sabers,” Cin advised. “And stock up on liniment.”

“I remember, Master Drallig.”

Several of the knights and masters chuckled knowingly. Master Drallig was never one to go easy on his students, but he usually tended to kick it up a notch after they were knighted. Cin had already done that to a certain extent when he moved Kenobi up to knight level dueling during his last years as a padawan and the young man had taken it in stride for all that Qui-Gon Jinn hadn’t seemed to care one way or the other. Regardless, it would be good to see if Kenobi’s skills had atrophied or grown since his knighting. In Cin’s experience it was usually both. It was difficult to figure out how to maintain skills when one’s master was no longer available for daily sparring, so many young knights ended up honing strengths and letting weaknesses lapse.

“See you next week.” With a nod, the Battlemaster left the party, already making plans for next week’s lesson. If he recalled correctly, Kenobi had been petitioning because he felt his technique in Ataru proved insufficient in battle, but with the new saber also in play, he was in a position to learn several new skills. Kenobi was a bit young to start mastering a second form, but the Sith had changed the game and there was little more he could learn in Form IV. Hopefully he had kept up his skills.

_No time like the present to prepare for the future_ he thought to himself as he walked down to his office to check in with the Temple Guard. With the present as uncertain as it was, there was no telling what the future would be.

* * *

Master Yoda stepped out of the Council Tower lift and entered the Visitor’s Hall, waving to the padawans preparing tea for the afternoon salons. As much as he enjoyed being Grandmaster, today was a good day to get out of the Council Chambers and have some time to just be himself. The sun was shining in through the high windows, the Force currents in the Temple were strong and whispered of the Light. He was confident the Order would get on fine without him, after all they still had Eller. He could sense her up ahead, no doubt holding his hover chair for him. He disliked it, but knew it was time to start using it more, rather than expecting his fellow Jedi to carry him around or wait for him. Just because getting old was better than the alternative didn’t mean he had to like it.

He turned a corner into the small kitchenette where he could sense Eller and found her talking with—

“Obi-Wan? Here for salon you are?”

Eller smiled at him. “Speak of the Devil.”

“Devil I am _not_ ,” he scolded but there was a twinkle in his eye. He looked up at the knight.

“I was, Master. Eller informed me you weren’t having salon today.” His smile was a tad self-deprecating. “I must have missed something in the Force.”

Yoda looked him over, reading the Force currents again, feeling the possibilities. “Maybe not.”

In the meantime, Eller had brought over his chair. He gave it a look of distaste. “Not staying for salon now?” he asked Obi-Wan.

“No, Master. In truth, I was coming to visit you. I’m enrolled in several classes, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to meet you for tea.”

“Yes, still young you are. Sometimes rest period more busy than mission run is.” He frowned at the unusual clothing under Obi-Wan’s robe. “What wearing you are?” It was mostly black and more form-fitting than his usual garb.

“Ah, it’s the new flight suits.” He rolled his eyes. “I was fulfilling my space flight training requirements this morning.”

“Good that is. Get done with now.”

Eller had gone further into the kitchen and had returned with a box of tea leaves that he was expecting, and a package of biscuits which he was not. “Knight Kenobi had brought these for you, but was having me hide them when he found out you weren’t holding salon today.”

“Come back tomorrow you cannot?”

“No, Master. I’m afraid I’m scheduled to be pounded into the training mats by Master Drallig the rest of the week.”

“Other plans for today you have?”

“No, but I’m sure I’ll find something productive to do, Master.”

Yoda gave him an assessing look. “Visit we still can. Going to different salon I am. Bring guest I may.”

Obi-Wan knelt down so Yoda would not have to stare up at him. “I don’t want to intrude on your plans, Master.”

“Heh, visiting old friends I am. Fit in you will if want to come you do.” He tapped Obi-Wan’s knee with his gimer stick. “Put you to wok they might, making tea, but Breggle may play later.”

“He also doesn’t want to ride there in the chair,” Elle stage-whispered.

Obi-Wan glanced up at Eller, then looked back at Master Yoda. “I could certainly take you where you want to go, Master.” He grimaced. “Well, I can if you don’t mind riding on the right shoulder.”

Yoda frowned. “Injured you are?”

“Just a fall in the salle. It should be fine by tomorrow, but I was ordered not to aggravate it.”

Yoda peered at the hover chair again, ready to swallow the bitter pill.

Obi-Wan held out his right arm. “I would be honored to meet your friends, Master.” Eller flashed him a grateful smile as Yoda climbed up to perch on his shoulder. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Down six floors, then to South Terrace we must go.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan was fairly sure that was in the section of the Temple set aside for retired Jedi. He stood up, Yoda on his shoulder.

“Did you want to bring the biscuits to share?” Eller asked, holding up the package Obi-Wan had brought.

Yoda peered at it, then patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Thank you, no. Eat them _all_ they will. Angry caretakers will be.” He looked around. “Hide for later, please.”

“Yes, Master Yoda.”

“Gone for afternoon I am. Contact if need to you must.”

“Have a good time,” Eller gave them both a smile before she locked the biscuits away, then took the hover chair back to its charging dock.

Obi-Wan entered the main part of the Temple and headed toward the lifts.

Yoda rode along quietly until they entered the otherwise empty lift. “Intrusion you are not. Bring guest I usually do, but have one today I did not.”

“Who usually comes with you?”

“Depends. Sometimes other master who quiet time needs. Sometimes padawans with master out on mission. Often docent if no one else. Sometimes Eller if bad day she having is. Play hooky we do.”

“Well, I assure you Master, I’m not playing hooky.”

“No homework Cin give you?”

“He gave me some reading, which I’ve already done, and ordered me out of the salle until tomorrow.” They exited the lift.

“Hmm,” Yoda sounded concerned. “How bad fall was?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Not terrible. I landed on my shoulder and my ego.”

Yoda poked at Obi-Wan’s left shoulder gently. “Stiff it is. To healers did you go?”

“No, Master. I was able to handle the bruises and,” his voice grew quiet, slightly embarrassed. “I took an anti-inflammatory. It should be fine by tomorrow. It’s probably just tense because of the flight training this morning.”

“Still like piloting you do not?”

“Yes, I can do it. I’d just rather not.”

“Like it I do not either. At least hover chair you do not need.”

Obi-Wan patted Yoda’s ankle in support. “I might by the time Master Drallig is done with me.”

“Good for you then salon will be. Afternoon with friends, not studying, light labor, good meditation weather.” They stopped at an intersection in the hall, waiting as a train of very large transport droids from Deliveries slowly rolled past them. Yoda shifted a bit, then laid a clawed hand on Obi-Wan’s left shoulder, feeling the joint with the Force. “Ice this did you?”

“Yes, Master.”

It wasn’t a major injury, but the shoulder had been wrenched during the fall and several muscle groups had small tears that would certainly heal over time. It was just tense and sore, and a trying morning hadn’t helped matters. The anti-inflammatory was standard treatment, even for Jedi, but Qui-Gon Jinn tended to eschew such medications, preferring to rely on the Living Force. Which was all well and good for him, but not much help to those less gifted. There was another train of droids behind the first one so Yoda took advantage of the delay and sent a pulse of healing energy into the stiff muscles under his palm.

Obi-Wan gasped and clutched at the wall to avoid stumbling in surprise. “Thank you, Master. A little warning next time, please.”

Yoda patted the much less aggravated muscles, satisfied.

“Qui-Gon not help heal you?” he asked, concerned.

“He did. You’re just much more powerful, Master.”

“Heh, stingy he probably was, but carry him around you did not.”

“Yes, his travel bag was much less generous.” The last of the droids passed and they moved on toward the sun terrace.

“Also more attuned you are now. Better absorb it you can.” Yoda chuckled. “Warn you in future I will. Dropped I do not want to be.”

“Definitely not. If you land badly, I _won’t_ be able to reciprocate.”

“Carry me to healers you would. Drop me not. Healer’s tea lousy is.”

Obi-Wan laughed as he followed Yoda’s directions to the main reception desk of the Jedi Retirement Center, then signed them both in and continued to the terrace, a beautiful sunlit space enclosed by large windows to keep out the pollution. On the far end, a group of elderly Jedi was arranged on the lawn in chairs or hover chairs, enjoying the spring sun. As they stepped into the brilliant sunlight, an older monk approached, smiling in welcome.

“Good day, Master Yoda.” He then proceeded to rattle off a ritual greeting too quickly for Obi-Wan to catch in an older tongue the knight was not very familiar with.

Yoda replied just as easily, something about thanking Brother Something and accepting the blessings of the Force.

“And who have you brought with you today?” the brother asked as Yoda handed him the tea leaves. “Is your friend joining us on this beautiful day?”

“Knight Kenobi this is.” He tried to look Obi-Wan in the face, though it was hard perched on only one shoulder. “Stay you will?”

Obi-Wan nodded his head. “If you and your friends won’t mind, Master Yoda.”

The monk looked him over. “Can you debate politics, make tea, argue lightsaber construction and discuss Force currents?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “Yes.”

“ _Knight_ he is. Diplomat too.”

“Oh, you’ll fit in fine.” He looked at Yoda. “If he knew Breggle, we could move him in right now.”

“Still learning he is.”

The monk laughed, thinking the elderly master was joking.

“Serious I am. Carry ten stones he did in Stellar Dance. _Second try._ ”

“Oh.” The monk was obviously surprised. “Why didn’t you bring him sooner?”

“Busy he was, out saving galaxy. Time to visit he had not.”

Obi-Wan bit back a smile.

Yoda motioned to be let down, then looked up at the knight. “Help with tea you can? Speak to Brother Ospen I must.”

Obi-Wan bowed and nodded. “Of course, Master.”

Brother Ospen turned and pointed toward a door, handing off the tea. “The kitchen is through there. Sister Nellise will appreciate the assistance.”

Obi-Wan bowed again and went directly to the door.

Ospen watched him go, wondering. “Is he a candidate for the monastery?”

“Have him you cannot. Warrior for the Light he is.” Yoda paused, considering it. “In flux future is. Perhaps monk when older. Knight he is now. Student of Master Turvis Obi-Wan was.”

“Oh, _that_ is Obi-Wan,” Ospen began to walk toward the group, matching his pace to the smaller master’s.

“Yes, much better he is doing now.” Yoda sighed. “How Si is? Last time, depressed he seemed.”

“Not better, not worse. His health is holding steady, he has been doing his therapy and has not been backsliding, but he needs some activity to occupy his time. His hands shake too much for his art now. He can use the Force to compensate but it frustrates him more than bringing him peace.”

“Hmm, get him to use brain we must. Brilliant mind he still has.” Yoda nodded to himself as they continued their walk.

“He does at that, Master, he does at that.”

They arrived at the small group of chairs and residents. Yoda waved to the group. Brother Ospen assured them the tea service would be arriving shortly now that Master Yoda was here. Yoda climbed into his usual cushioned chair, set slightly higher so he could converse more easily.

“Master,” a gravelly-voiced old man sitting next to him smiled, holding out a shaky hand and sending a tendril of Force his way. “It’s very good to see you.”

Yoda responded back, grasping the hand and sending a healing pulse similar to the one he had sent Obi-Wan. The man sighed his thanks.

“Good to see you too, Padawan. Stiff you seem today.”

“Just slept funny. Brother Artin has been helping to keep me limber.”

Yoda exchanged pleasantries with several of the other masters, and a few more residents trickled in to fill in the empty chairs. Most were happy to enjoy the first truly beautiful day of the season and basked silently in the filtered sun and the Force, soaking in the life from the garden beds and cultivated grass beneath their feet.

After several minutes Obi-Wan and Sister Nellise appeared on the garden path, the former pushing a large cart with the tea equipment and the latter with the afternoon doses of medication. Yoda nodded at Obi-Wan who stopped the cart where the sister indicated, then began setting it up for tea, heating the water and measuring out the leaves with a practiced hand. Sister Nellise walked from resident to resident, passing out pills and water cups. Some took their pills without fuss, others with mild grumbling and resignation.

“Did you want some water as well, Master Yoda?” Sister Nellise asked as she placed Master Silvanus’ pills on the side table along with his water, knowing he would take them in his own time.

“Thank you, no. Wait for tea I will.”

Si waited until the sister returned to the tea cart to assist before scowling at his pills.

“Getting old pleasant is not,” Yoda conceded. “Came in hover chair today I almost did.”

Si gave him a surprised look. “Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Time catch up with all of us will. Put off another day I did.” Not that he was happy about it.

The tea had steeped and Sister Nellise was pouring out the cups. Obi-Wan picked up a full tray and at the sister’s direction served Master Yoda and Si first.

“So who is this young man who brought you over?” Si looked over Obi-Wan’s flight suit, confused. “One of the docents?”

Yoda rolled his eyes as he accepted the tea. “Teasing you he is.” He turned to Si. “Remember Obi-Wan you do. Knight he is now.”

Obi-Wan held out the cup to Si, who reached for it with both hands and a bit of Force. Both paused, looking at each other in confusion.

“Have we met before, young Knight?”

“Not that I can recall, Master?” Obi-Wan trailed off, frowning.

“You can call me Si.” He peered at Yoda. “Can’t say I remember him, Master.”

“Helped you pack up when move here you did,” Yoda waved a hand as if this should be obvious. Obi-Wan’s forehead creased as he tried to recall.

“Master!” Si laughed. “That would have been ten years ago. He would have been what, twelve?”

“Ah!” Obi-Wan’s face lit up with recognition. “Sixteen actually. You were the master with all the artwork. I packed up your dishes and you recommended I take Master Turvis’s class.” Obi-Wan smiled and bowed his head. “Thank you for your good counsel, Master Si. I apologize for thanking you so late.” Obi-Wan moved on to the next resident, not wanting to withhold the refreshments.

“Did that work out well?” Si asked Yoda.

“Very good calligrapher he is now. Transcribed Treaty of Helsen Nebula while still padawan.”

“The Helsens are very picky about penmanship.”

“They are.”

Obi-Wan continued down the line, offering cups of tea to the elderly residents, introducing himself when asked, simply being pleasant when not. He could feel through the Force that most of these Jedi were sharp as a tack, but certainly not all of them.

A white-haired Kiffar with prosthetic legs introduced himself as Master Bes and was inordinately delighted when Obi-Wan held out the tray and let him select his own cup rather than handing him one.

“You have good Kiffar manners, Knight Obi-Wan,” he smiled. “The docents are nice enough, but they don’t get a chance to learn finer diplomacy.”

“One of my neighbors is Kiffar,” Obi-Wan explained. “And I’ve been to Kiffu before.”

With a bow of his head he moved on to the next resident, a man who was past middle age, but not elderly, and felt very odd in the Force. He was chattering to himself, eyes flitting about, seemingly unaware of Obi-Wan’s presence. When he continued to be unacknowledged, Obi-Wan glanced back at Master Bes, unsure what to do.

“Just leave a cup for Master Clearing on the tray table,” Bes advised and Obi-Wan noticed the master was seated in a study chair with a desktop that could be moved out of the way. “He’ll notice it before it gets cold.”

Obi-Wan nodded, “Thank you, Master Bes.” Carefully, he placed a cup in the center of the desk. He could feel the man snap to attention in the Force and was fortunately not startled when his hand was suddenly grabbed by warm fingers, for all that the man was looking off across the garden, silent. Obi-Wan could tell this Master Clearing was reading him through the Force, but little of it seemed to be a Living Force probe, and there was something strange about it, a jumbledness to his Force presence. The man smiled, his face one of sudden recognition.

“Oh, hello Master Kenobi. When did you get here?”

Obi-Wan wondered why this had become his day for meeting people he could not remember. “I’m just a knight, but I came with Master Yoda.” He hoped he would get his hand back soon.

“Yoda, is he here?” Without waiting for an answer, he immediately turned to look at Yoda perched in his chair at the edge of the gathering. “Yoda! You old dragon! You brought Master Kenobi!”

“Um,” Obi-Wan hadn’t been trying to make a spectacle of himself by passing out tea.

“Don’t mind Master Clearing,” Bes advised, putting his hand on the arm of the man in question. “He has lost his moment.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan nodded.

“Brought him I did,” Yoda seemed content to roll with it, so Obi-Wan gave up trying to clear up the confusion. Dementia in Jedi was rare, but not unheard of, and some retained Force skills far longer than wits. “Very pleased to see you again he is.”

“He’s seen you in the Force,” Bes explained. “So he thinks you’ve met before.”

“It’s good to see you so . . . conversational, Master Clearing.”

Si snorted.

Master Clearing looked into his face, but it wasn’t clear what he was seeing. “Is your padawan running you ragged?”

“Not currently,” Obi-Wan assured him, feeling this safer than outright contradiction. Bes nodded at him, knowing the knight was a bit young to have taken on an apprentice.

Master Clearing chattered to himself, something about ‘knighted yet, or not apprenticed yet’ as if aware his mind was not processing time normally. After a moment he huffed and Obi-Wan could sense him releasing his anxiety over his confusion to the Force, before gently squeezing his hand. “It’s good you’re still here. The shit hasn’t hit the fan yet.” He let go, glancing over at Yoda and acting as if Obi-Wan were no longer there. The knight moved further down to serve the next resident.

“Master Kenobi is here,” he seemed to be trying to keep the thought in his head.

“Yes, Wallace, he’s serving tea,” Si answered, as if these bizarre conversations were normal.

Master Clearing frowned a moment. “Is he on the Council yet?”

Si and Yoda turned to stare at Master Clearing, then at Obi-Wan who was giving the cryptic man a wary look. Bes tried not to shoot tea out his nose and several of the other residents chuckled.

“No,” Yoda tried to sound nonchalant. “Few years to go has he.”

“It’s sunny today,” Master Bes prompted.

“Oh!” Master Clearing looked at the sky, face blossoming with wonder, then began chattering about meteorological phenomenon.

Si turned to Yoda, who was still looking at Obi-Wan speculatively. “Is that why you’re so interested in this one, Master?”

Yoda finally looked back at Si. “Clear Force has been. Great Jedi he will be. Very good knight now he is.”

“I’ll talk to Wallace later. Find out what he’s on about.”

“Yes, do so please. Effort it is, but important it may be.”

“Does he get along with Mace?” Si asked, nodding at Obi-Wan who was continuing to pass out cups.

“Agree with Mace more than Qui-Gon he does, but own mind he has.”

Si snorted into his tea and rolled his eyes. “ _On the Council_.”

Yoda nodded. “For thought food is.”

Obi-Wan had not been close enough to hear the exchange, intent on continuing the service. The next three residents were women who ranged in age from seemingly too young to be there to well past the expected lifetime of their species.

The first was a quite elderly looking Twilek woman who, like Master Yoda, had a Force presence that belied her frail appearance.

“Good afternoon, young Jedi,” she held out her hands and accepted the cup of tea with a grin.

“Good afternoon,” Obi-Wan returned her smile and moved to the next woman, a humanoid who appeared to be just past middle age but looked as if she had endured a life on the edges of poverty. Her Force presence was not serene as would be expected of a Jedi, it felt undisciplined, almost slimy, like certain con artists Obi-Wan had encountered. She looked up at him, almost smirking. Obi-Wan kept his smile in place but he felt instantly uncomfortable. “Tea?”

“Yes,” she continued to smirk up at him as he held out the cup, trying to hide his distaste. There was no table or surface for him to place the cup on, leaving Obi-Wan to hold the cup until she finally decided to take it, only after she had taken her time to look him up and down like a piece of meat.

“Good, Docent,” she drawled, as if Obi-Wan were an obedient dog, her expression almost a leer. She didn’t feel as if she was losing her inhibitions in her age so much as just not being all that respectful to begin with.

“He’s a knight,” the Twilek corrected.

“Love the uniform,” her gaze slid over the flight suit and Obi-Wan wished he hadn’t taken off his robe in the warm sun.

Obi-Wan did not take his eyes off her until he had moved on to the next resident, the whole encounter making him uneasy. This woman was older than the previous, but still fit and active. A dermal port was attached to her upper arm, and her Force signature felt as if she had some sort of chronic illness, which was probably why she was living here and not living independently.

“Good day, Master. Tea?”

“Just a knight, like yourself, but yes, thank you.”

Obi-Wan picked up a cup of hot tea and placed it on the side table. He was just starting to straighten up when he felt the unmistakable slither of the Dark Side, and he was reaching for his lightsaber before he quite realized what was happening. The older knight caught on quickly and gasped out a “No!” and grabbed his hand in a Force-augmented grip just as something Dark and odious grabbed his butt cheek and squeezed hard. A split second later the hand on his ass was abruptly pulled away and the conniving woman in the next chair hissed angrily.

Obi-Wan forced himself not to react, knowing his impulse was disproportionate to the transgression, for all that he felt the Darkness in it, Darkness that should have no place within the Temple walls. Obi-Wan gripped the tray, white-knuckled, but did not carry out the defense his instincts had moved toward. With effort, he released the adrenaline response into the Force, knowing the anger he could feel coming must also be kept in check.

Yoda stood up abruptly at the first disturbance in the Force, and he was unsurprised at the source, who was even now trying to free her hand from where it was Force-pinned to the arm of her chair.

“Obi-Wan, alright you are?” He could not tell exactly what had happened, but it was clear the knight had been attacked in some manner.

“Fine, Master,” Obi-Wan grit out, giving his attacker a cold glare, in a tone that clearly said he was _not_ fine, but he was managing. The elder knight released him, aware he was in control of himself now. His hands were shaking slightly, and the cups rattled on the tray. Obi-Wan looked down. The remaining tea cups were no longer steaming, but had gone cold and bitter, as had the cup he had left for the knight. Never taking his eyes off the Dark woman, he picked up the knight’s cup back up and stepped back. “My apologies, Knight. This cup is spoiled. Let me get you another.” He walked back to the cart, dumping out the previously poured cups and releasing his agitation so he wouldn’t ruin the whole pot.

Si caught the elder knight’s eye as she covertly pressed the call button. Yoda hopped off his chair and headed directly to Obi-Wan who was by now pouring out new tea cups.

“Alright you are? Happened what did?”

Obi-Wan knelt down behind the cart, wanting to reassure the Grandmaster as much as to speak unseen. “I’ll be fine. I just wasn’t expecting that woman to get handsy in the Temple.”

Yoda peered around the side of the cart, giving the assailant a glare that promised death, or at least justice. In the background he could see the elder knight slip out of her chair and move to intercept Brother Ospen who had come to answer her call. “Apologize I do. Warned you I should have.” Yoda made a growling sound that Obi-Wan had come to associate with anger or disgust. “Horny viper she is.”

“She felt Dark, Master,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I apologize for disturbing you.”

Yoda’s eyes widened and he slowly put a hand on Obi-Wan’s wrist which was resting across his knee. “Nothing wrong _you_ have done.”

“Only because the knight next to her stayed my hand.”

Yoda glanced at Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. “Pity.” He looked him in the eye. “Leave we can, but report to Brother Ospen we must. Tolerated this behavior will not be.”

“I don’t want you to cut your visit short, Master. If my presence is disruptive, I can come get you later.”

“Disruptive _you_ are not. If feel up to staying after talking to Brother Ospen, come sit with me do. Brought you to visit Si, not get felt up. Sorry I am.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong either, Master. Please, spend time with your friend. I can see how happy he was to see you.”

Yoda reluctantly went back to his chair, glaring at the offending party the whole way. After speaking to the elder knight, Brother Ospen went to speak with Master Yoda as Obi-Wan had resumed the tea service. Obi-Wan kept a safe distance from the rude woman but made a point to thank both women on either side who had taken it upon themselves to manage her behavior. The elder knight gratefully accepted her fresh tea, and after a few moments the rest of the group had been served, and Obi-Wan returned to the cart where Brother Ospen was waiting. Master Yoda watched intently as the two had a quiet but intense conversation. Obi-Wan’s Force presence wavered between disturbed and contrite, more upset by the Darkness and his instinctual reaction then by the actual transgression. Brother Ospen reassured him that he had done nothing wrong and was welcome to stay but hoped Obi-Wan would be willing to report the incident. Obi-Wan agreed to speak with Security, particularly when he heard this was not the first incident.

“She does this regularly?”

Brother Ospen looked rather embarrassed. “She has harassed several docents and monks before, but this is only the second time she has harassed a knight. She has been warned before that harassing armed knights who have honed their reflexes to respond to attack creates a dangerous situation for everyone. Not that we discount the harassment of our less martially trained brethren, but the situation in that case is less actionable. To be frank, we’ve long since stopped trying to accommodate her and are now looking to remove her from the facility. She’s only here due to a since closed legal loophole and does not in fact need our care. If we can document that she is actually a danger to herself and our residents, the legal department is confident we can have her reassigned to a civilian facility.”

“Is it wise to release a Dark Jedi into the general population?” Not that Obi-Wan wanted to subject his fellow Jedi to that loathesome woman, but the general population would be even less equipped to deal with her.

Ospen glanced her way. “She’s not a Jedi. As I said, legal loophole. Common law wife to a Service Corp Jedi who has since passed into the Force. Mildly Force-sensitive, but untrained. Also, standards are higher for the Republic to pay for residential care. I expect she should find herself forced to be an independent adult again.

Obi-Wan sighed. He did not want to play a role in removing someone from their home, but the Darkness had no place here, and he wasn’t the only victim. “I will speak honestly to whoever you need me to speak with, Brother Ospen.”

“Thank you.” He looked apologetic. “In the meantime, the brothers and I will remove her from the social area for the infraction. We would be pleased if you can continue your visit but understand if you cannot.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Master Yoda was enjoying his visit. I would prefer to stay in case he needs me.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Brother Ospen left to collect a few orderlies. Obi-Wan removed the tea leaves from the second pot, then began walking back to Master Yoda.

“Docent!” The rude woman called out to him, despite the insistent hushing from her neighbors. “I’m out of tea!”

Both Yoda and Si shook their heads, indicating he was well within proper behavior to ignore her. Obi-Wan turned to look at her but did not step closer.

“A Jedi lives to _serve_ , Docent,” she leered. “Serve me, Boy.” When Obi-Wan neither looked away nor came closer, she began to berate him, her voice shrill. “The Jedi are supposed to serve the needy, the poor, the wanting! You get your ass over here and serve me, Boy!”

“I don’t think that would be wise. Obviously, the previous cup has not served to calm you.”

She dropped he cup into the grass at her feet. “Pick up my cup, Boy!”

Yoda watched the interaction intently. Obi-Wan calmly levitated the cup out of the grass and dropped it with the other used cups on the cart. The look on her face was priceless. Either the docents didn’t cultivate telekinesis or her usual victims were too upset to manage it.

By this time several rather burly brothers had arrived who stood head and shoulders over Obi-Wan, and rendered the loud, angry protests futile. Brother Ospen nodded again in apology as she was escorted back to her room and the Dark that seemed to seep from her started to dissipate. Satisfied she was finally gone, Obi-Wan walked over to Yoda and moved to sit beside him in the grass, not wanting to take the vile woman’s chair. Before he could settle, Yoda stopped him, motioning for him to sit in front of him. Obi-Wan complied, a bit confused when the ancient master had him turn around to face away from him.

“Master?” He could feel familiar hands cautiously prodding his shoulder, which had unfortunately tensed up again, this time all the way up to his neck from forcibly holding himself still. Yoda hissed between his teeth. “Angry Cin will be, let you get all tight I did. Mess in salle you will be tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan turned his head sideways. “It’s not your fault, Master. But he’s probably going beat me into a pulp anyway.” Now that the master had mentioned it, Obi-Wan was not looking forward to showing up in the salle tomorrow appearing to have ignored the Battlemaster’s instructions. He really hadn’t expected a tea service to kink up his arm again.

“Forward you will face,” Yoda directed. “Straighten back if can.”

“Yes, Master.” He could sense Yoda probing the tense muscles, following along, identifying the knots.

“Raise arm, hold out straight.”

Si looked on in amusement as his former master manhandled the young knight with a familiarity he usually reserved for his former and current padawans.

“Master?” Obi-Wan sounded just slightly alarmed as Yoda began pulling at the high ribbed turtleneck collar of the flightsuit, leaning back when the material did not yield.

“Stiffness in your neck now is. Cannot fix through collar.”

Obi-Wan turned his head again, wincing as his neck cramped. “You don’t have to fix it, Master. You already helped me once today.”

“Need your shoulder you do. Work with Cin tomorrow you must.” He leaned forward. “Kind you were being. See you in pain I do not want. Better things for you in mind I have. Need arm you will.”

“Is it going to tax you, Master?” Obi-Wan asked, concerned.

“Shoulder massage tax me will not. More nerve manipulation then healing needed now. Healing from before still working is. Tension sabotage it will.” He patted Obi-Wan shoulder gently. “Open collar can?”

With a sigh, Obi-Wan reached up with his good arm and unhooked the hidden clasps, opening the collar, allowing Yoda access to his neck. Within seconds he could feel warm, stubby fingers poking at the knots, pushing small, measured doses of healing energy at specific points.

“Hold still you will,” Yoda directed. “Let me move arm you will.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan sounded a bit uncertain. Qui-Gon had helped him loosen muscles when he was a padawan, but when Obi-Wan’s grasp of the Living Force continued to grow at a snail’s pace, he began to focus on more practical tactics like stretching routines. He could feel the tiny master lower the zipper down his back and push his hand further in, probing at more knots and angry tendons. Obi-Wan had been honest, the wound had definitely been iced, and the bruises were mostly gone, but the incident had left him tense all over and with the recent injury the whole area had been primed to cramp up if provoked.

“Move your arm I will. Intense will be. Brace not. Relax if can.”

Obi-Wan released the slightest bit of worry. He knew Master Yoda wouldn’t injure him, but it was hard not to feel on edge with a warning like that.

Yoda shifted his hand under the suit and put his other hand on Obi-Wan’s outstretched arm. Suddenly the Force entered his arm in what he could only describe as a benevolent takeover, and the limb was stretched and pulled across its range of motion to a degree he would be hard-pressed to accomplish voluntarily. He gasped explosively, the knots where Yoda had probed pulsed with heat and energy and after what seemed like much longer than it must have been, his arm returned to the original outstretched position. It had only been a few seconds, but his arm and shoulder felt like it had undergone an hour of therapeutic massage, maybe more.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “Master,” he was startled to find he sounded winded, his whole nervous system a bit stunned. “I think you’ve missed your true calling.” It was almost a groan. Si laughed at him, remembering the first time Yoda had done the same to him.

Yoda carefully lowered his arm, using the Force to support it until it rested in Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Should my fingers be tingling?” Obi-Wan asked, rubbing his thumb over them.

“Yes,” Yoda patted the now limp shoulder that was now hanging noticeably lower than the uninjured one. “Nerves resetting. Go numb will, then normal. Fifteen minutes or so.” He used the Force to pull up Obi-Wan’s robe which had been next to him in the grass and draped it over his shoulders. “Keep it warm you will. Meditate now, on sun, on grass, quiet, pleasant day. Better will be soon.” Obi-Wan started to turn his head but Yoda put a clawed hand on the back of his head to stop him. “No. Forward you will face. Healing you must let work. Move not. Sit. Feel Force.”

“Are you alright, Master?” Obi-Wan wasn’t used to feeling quite that much Force energy used for a non-urgent matter. “That was a lot.”

Yoda snorted. “Fine I am. Told you I did, absorb more you can now. Let Force do work. Work I have for you if better you will be.”

Obi-Wan recognized Yoda’s hopeful tone from when he was trying to cajole him into picking up one more Breggle stone. Whatever Yoda wanted him to do, he knew he would do his best not to disappoint. “Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan deepened his breathing and settled into a light meditation, releasing his earlier worries and tensions and trying to experience the moment. His arm didn’t hurt, he was safe in the Temple, the Darkness had melted away in the warmth and sunshine, and nearby were his elders, brilliant, serene, full presences in the Force, much stronger and vibrant when seen this way, his eyes, closed.

Sensing Obi-Wan had done as he asked, Yoda settled into his chair, reaching for his neglected tea with his free hand. He had not moved the other from Obi-Wan’s head, lightly monitoring the meditation. When it became clear the young man had reached a calm stat and was successfully releasing the stressful experience, he moved his hand, allowing it to run through the sun-kissed hair, a source of comfort for both of them. Obi-Wan made a slight humming sound, tipping his face up to the sun, lines of anger, stress and worry melting away from his youthful visage. When Yoda turned back to Si, he found his former apprentice watching, one eyebrow raised.

“I thought you were done taking on padawans, Master.”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Knight he is. All masters teach not all things to all padawans.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Yoda gave him a look that invited Si to speak his mind. The old man shook his head.

“Why did you bring him?” It was not accusatory, but curious.

“Working with Cin he is. Survived battle with Sith he did. Very gifted with saberwork, but stakes changed have. Skills not up to new challenge he feels. Unsure where to go he is. Your opinion valued would be.”

“Is Cin’s opinion not sufficient?” Drallig was Battlemaster now. “He should be more than up to the task of directing a knight so young as this.”

“All opinions, all advice valued.” Yoda continued stroking Obi-Wan’s hair and Si suddenly noticed that Obi-Wan’s Force presence was much more refined than was typical for a knight his age. Clearly he had been putting in the work. “Killed Sith he did, but killed master nearly was. Would prefer fight less desperate be.”

Si raised both eyebrows. “Not on the Council yet?”

“Not yet.”

“What did he do to his arm?”

“Fell in salle, he said. Probably against Cin.”

Si pulled out his comm. “Perhaps I should consult my younger brother.”

Yoda smiled his thanks, hiding his quiet delight as he felt Si’s mind begin to stretch and open, as if waking from a long sleep. The call connected and Yoda listened to his former padawans conversing, something that had not happened in far too long. Clearly next salon he would have to drag Cin over. He settled into a light meditation of his own, feeling the sun warm his blood, feeling the peace now that the transgressor was gone, the hope that she would be leaving permanently, and the mild euphoria, even felt among Jedi, on an absolutely beautiful day. To one side, Si’s presence was unfurling, like a tree putting out leaf buds in spring when the week before it had looked dead. In front of him Obi-Wan glowed with youth, health, and growth, soaking in the light and the Light. The future was always uncertain, but this young spirit was on a better path now.

Si ended the conversation and Yoda surfaced from his meditation, still stroking Obi-Wan’s hair.

“Say what Cin did?”

Si snorted, aware he was being manipulated by his former master, but not really minding, knowing this was one way Yoda showed his love. “Obi-Wan did take a spill in the salle. Cin’s not concerned with his skills falling behind. He gave him the day off because the other knights are still holding back and Obi-Wan wasn’t. Also he wanted the shoulder to be in good shape for katas.”

“Usually fall badly he does not.” Yoda’s comm beeped.

“Cin sent the footage. He drove him into a wall, trying to determine his limits. Most of the other knights kept dropping their guard when they stepped out of the ring, even when told not to. Obi-Wan kept up. Cin says it’s clear he’s fought for his life before against other saber wielders.”

“He has,” Yoda said thoughtfully. “Not first time against Sith, but much harder fight.”

“He regularly gets into duels to the death?”

“Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan. Faced off against Dark Jedi more than once he has.” He gestured in the direction of the empty chair. “Hair trigger.”

“What forms does use now? Ataru?”

“Yes, but trained against other forms he has also.”

“Does he train with you?”

“Often not. Trained with Qui-Gon until Sith, trained with Mace while preparing for Trials, train with other knights between missions does. Vos, Carlin, Hussin. Once with Plo.”

“He challenged Koon?”

“No,” Yoda snorted. “Good judge of saber abilities has, knows his place. Koon checking on Vos was. Lost Obi-Wan did, but fought well.” Yoda put down his tea and pulled out his comm, scrutinizing the footage Cin had sent, wincing when Obi-Wan connected not only with the wall, but with a very battered cabinet mounted on it. (It was a favorite spot for Cin to box in young knights who still thought of the area outside the mats as neutral territory). Cin tended to spend the first days of the workshop teaching the young knights not to let their guard down and most emerged with a mild burn or three, usually learning by the second or third day that if they expected the Battlemaster to evaluate them for weaknesses, they needed to stop pulling their strikes, losing focus on their environment, and following the traditional rules of informal sparring. Obi-Wan had been slammed into a cabinet, _hard_ , and had been bruised and sprained, but he hadn’t gotten burned. Part of the reason he’d hit the wall so hard was he had been blocking the blow, not letting his guard down, and in fact had continued the duel until Cin called it several minutes later, objective achieved, and not wanting to injure him further. It was far from an embarrassing defeat for someone of Obi-Wan’s age and experience, but Yoda could see why he might feel that way.

The footage also served to highlight Obi-Wan’s concerns. His skills were lacking in effective defense, the moves he had were too taxing, neither compact nor precise enough to hold out against a strong opponent long term. It was clear he was trying, very aware that his defense was lacking, but unclear on how to best remedy that.

“Watch this you have?” Yoda asked, sensing Obi-Wan was beginning to surface from his meditation.

“Yes, quite the hit.”

The tiny master flipped through several files on his own comm, then tossed it to Si. “Secure file. Footage from Sith battle. More there is. Show you Cin can.”

Si perked up, interested despite himself. The footage showed the young man fighting a tattooed Zabrack, padawan braid flying behind him. The battle was very fast, very intense, the young man was clearly losing his calm as the fight continued and with the lump Si assumed was his master laid out in the background it was little wonder why. Still, he fought well until the monster lashed out, he abruptly dropped into a pit in the floor and the scene ended.

“Maybe I should visit Cin,” Si wondered out loud. “Just to consult.”

“Come to Main Temple.” Yoda caught the comm as Si tossed it back. “Better gossip we have.”

“I thought you said he killed the Sith.”

“Cin has footage. Clear you I will. Was hanging in pit. Pulled self up and called master’s saber to hand in surprise attack.”

“Simultaneously?”

Yoda nodded, finally drawing back the hand in Obi-Wan’s hair as the knight’s head dipped as he came out of his meditation. The master leaned forward to speak into Obi-Wan’s ear. “Feel better you do?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sounded rather surprised, but given how hard he had hit that wall, he probably expected his arm to ache a bit for the rest of the week. “That was amazing. Thank you, Master.”

Yoda chuckled. “Go,” he gestured toward a clear patch of grass. “Do simple open hand katas. Wake up nerves. If go well, something I have for you to do.” Obi-Wan bowed his head and did as instructed.

Si leaned closer, watching the routines, a moment before hitting the non-emergency call button. Some of the other residents had left, some were replaced, and some just refilled their cups. Master Bes, the Twilek and the elder knight opted to sit close, realizing Yoda was about to put their tea steward through his paces for Si.

“If he could manage that,” Si leaned closer, not wanting to be overheard. “You should probably teach him Breggle.”

“Already am.”

Si laughed. “You sly dog.”

“Still learning is. Very promising.”

Si looked the young knight over. “Good balance, good form, good range of motion. He wasn’t doing it in the clips, how are his aerials?”

Yoda smiled. He had Si hooked. “Excellent as padawan. Still very good in open spar, hmm, six months ago? Concerned about defense, strength of technique he is. Also just finished multi-crystal saber last week. Beautiful voice it has.”

“Multi-crystal would have helped in that fight.”

“Agreed. Knocked off catwalk twice he was. Sith blade more power had.”

Brother Ospen came back, watching the young knight briefly as he passed. Master Yoda was right, this one would not be joining the monastery any time soon. The Force was singing in him, even with the simple open-hand katas the monks also knew, but he took to them like the knight he was. _Out saving the galaxy, indeed._

Si beckoned him over. Brother Ospen caught Yoda’s twinkling eye as he passed.

“Yes, Master Silvanus? Did you want me to bring your Breggle stones?”

Brother Ospen seemed very eager. Si almost felt guilty. He supposed he hadn’t been doing much lately.

“Actually, no. I’m sorry to ask you to go to my quarters, but could you bring me the metal chest under my bed?”

Brother Ospen raised his eyebrows. “The training droids?”

“If you would be so kind.”

“Of course,” Brother Ospen knew this routine. Trust Master Yoda to give his former padawan a mental kick in the pants.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to bring them myself.”

“It is not a bother, Master Silvanus.” Brother Ospen walked off to get the equipment, feeling the rightness of it in the Force. He had been correct to keep them charged for all that Si had insisted he could recycle them.

Obi-Wan finished his usual series of open-handed katas, then walked back to Yoda, somewhat surprised to see the other Jedi that had come closer. Master Clearing was off in the background, communing with the flowers if his delighted exclamations were any indication and it was clear the other residents were keeping an eye on him. Yoda indicated Obi-Wan should sit and join the group.

“Met Knight Kenobi you have,” Master Yoda gestured around the circle. “Master Bes excellent field Jedi was. Very good negotiator. Retired now.” He nodded at the Twilek. “Master Denna. Also field Jedi and researcher. Editor of meditation book gave you I did.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan nodded at the elderly woman. “I’ve found your book to be very helpful.”

“Good to hear Jedi are still reading it.” She sipped her tea. “Master Yoda drafted a few of the telekinetic meditations. _That_ was a challenge to edit.” She leaned forward. “Have you read chapter six?”

“Um, it was very informative.”

“Teasing you she is.”

Obi-Wan turned to Yoda in surprise. “You asked me the same thing.”

Yoda laughed. “Yes, _my job_ to ask it is. Watch out for you someone must. Ask _everyone_ Denna does.”

“Meditation is self care,” Denna replied. “All forms are important.”

“Knight Sophia Loris,” Yoda spoke quickly to head off a lecture none of them wanted to hear. “Worked with Tahl in archives did. Help us old people sometimes does. Helped find file for art print.”

Knight Loris laughed. “That was a bit of a challenge, Master. ‘Find a six-hundred-year-old painting in the Archives for a fairly obscure artist with a huge portfolio of commercial work, can’t remember the title. It’s a Jedi with a lightsaber.’ From a Jedi artist. All of her portrait work was of Jedi, nearly all of them with lightsabers.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Thank you. I appreciate the effort. It’s a beautiful art print.”

“Oh, it was a fun adventure finding it. I ended up saving a bunch of them to my personal archive. Very talented artist.” She sipped her tea.

“Commercial work?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Oh, yes,” Sophia put down her cup, eyes lighting up. “She painted portraits of knights, masters, padawans, all sorts of Jedi for a PR campaign. Painting and prints would go to embassies, satellite temples, hostels that Jedi would stay at. Monarchs and political leaders would display them to show support of the Jedi. Families who gave up children to the Jedi also bought many of the prints. They served to help people empathize with the Jedi, make us seem less _other_.”

“Helped connect to people did.” Yoda rolled his eyes. “Enjoy posing I did not.”

“Master Tahl thinks I should put a caff table book together. I thought it would be more fun if we included more modern portraits of Jedi today.” She smiled at Yoda. “Perhaps we could put Master Yoda’s painting next to a current pic.”

Yoda looked less than thrilled. “Miss my hair I do.”

“Now I want to see this painting,” Master Bes laughed. “I’ve never seen you with hair.”

“I’ve seen some images,” Si grinned. “His hair was magnificent.”

Knight Sophia pulled the pic up on her comm and passed it around to all except Yoda’s delight. “When I finally found it there was great debate amongst the staff as to whether it was Master Yoda or not.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I thought it was obvious myself, but I’d have to say it’s split about fifty-fifty with my visitors, half of which ask if it’s Master Yoda or comment that it looks like him, and the other half who think the print is everything from a Jedi from the ancient sagas, a character from mythology, and even from a holonet role-playing game. There is general consensus that his hair is awe-inspiring.”

Si laughed. Yoda poked Obi-Wan with his gimer stick. “Tease you should not,” but he smiled when he said it.

“I was _serious_ ,” Obi-Wan protested. “I saw two of my neighbors trying to do hair wraps on each other.” The group laughed.

Yoda sighed. “Fashion icon I am not.”

“You have a style that is your own, Master.”

Master Bes coughed ‘diplomat’ under his breath before passing the pic on.

Yoda gestured at Si. “Met Si before you have. Battlemaster was before Drallig. Excellent saber master is.”

Si snorted. “ _Was_ , Master. Not all of us have Perma-Flex Rubber in our knees.”

Yoda held up his gimer stick. “Getting old I am too. Light side of Force keep young only _so_ long.”

“Master _Silvanus_?” Obi-Wan guessed.

“Yes, Si. Simet Silvanus.” Yoda shook his head. “Introduce self well he does not. Taught him better manners I did.”

Si shrugged.

“Master Drallig speaks highly of you, Master Silvanus.”

“Eh, I’m over the hill now, and no,” he glared at Yoda. “I was not going to introduce myself as an over-the-hill-Battlemaster to the teenagers packing me off to the rest home.” He pointed at Obi-Wan. ” _This_ one was polite. The other two kept looking through my things for lightsabers and nude paintings. Little reprobates.”

“Punishment detail on they were. Obi-Wan at loose ends was.”

“I do remember you had fascinating artwork, Master Silvanus.”

“Si is fine,” he waved his hand. “Yes, I remember you looking at it.”

“Make most of art work Si did. Have some in quarters I think I do.”

Si rolled his eyes. “Sentimentality can be a path to the Dark Side.”

“Bah,” Yoda spotted Brother Ospen returning with Si’s box of droids. “Great Battlemaster Si was. Very wise.” He nodded at Obi-Wan. “Show him your skills you should. Give advice he can for future saber studies.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Master Yoda uneasily. The tiny master was making the Breggle encouragement-face. “Master, I’m sure your friends—” Obi-Wan paused. Brother Ospen was making very negative hand gestures behind Si’s back.

“Excellent strategist he is,” Yoda looked very encouraging. “Trained many Jedi. Analyze technique he can.”

Obi-Wan leaned in to speak quietly. “Is Master Drallig going to be offended? He’s already planning to pound me into the mats tomorrow.”

Yoda shook his head. “Mind Cin will not,” he answered, loud enough for all to hear. Bes and Denna chuckled knowingly.  
  
“Your other friends won’t be bored?”

“Heh,” Yoda gave him a shove to get him on his feet. “Why think you sitting here they are? The great Master Si judging the young knight is. Want to see how young people doing are.”

“We’d also normally comment on your fine Jedi physique, but you’ve had a rough enough day already, Dear,” Denna added.

Obi-Wan got up reluctantly, surprised Brother Ospen had also sat down to join them. He walked a short distance away then stood in the grass and turned to face Master Silvanus at attention.

“Master Yoda says your current form is Ataru, but you’re looking to expand your repertoire.”

“Yes, Master Silvanus.”

“Master _Si_.” He turned to Yoda. “Why is he so damned polite?”

“Used to Cin he is. Also make up for Jinn’s informality.”

“Careful, young man. You keep that up, everyone will think you have a stick up your ass like my brother Yan.”

Yoda smacked his arm. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened a bit at the revelation that Si was one of Yoda’s padawans.

“Alright, Form IV katas. Do the first three. Keep the aerials low. We’re on grass, not mats.”

Obi-Wan nodded, took up his lightsaber and began, all serious despite the casual manner of the request. The katas were relatively simple, barring the aerials (and could be down without), but it gave Si an idea of how the knight moved.

“Jinn’s padawan, definitely. You can see his hand in the training.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Move on now he must.”

“What is Jinn’s assessment?” Qui-Gon Jinn was a bit arrogant for a Jedi Master, and sometimes close-minded, but having trained the young man for years, he would be in the best position to assess him.

“Bring up Jinn not. Left him adrift he did. Almost take Trials did not.”

Obi-Wan executed a particularly intricate aerial variation that even Yoda noticed. “You’re telling me that story later, Master.” Si’s face was stern, analyzing. “That would have been a waste.”

“Yes. Very much so.”

Master Clearing wandered closer, drawn by the sounds of the saber for all that it was powered low. Attentive, he sat down next to Brother Ospen. “That’s Master Kenobi,” he asserted. Bes and Denna held back snickers.

“Oh, is it?” Ospen asked. “Not Brother Kenobi?”

“Oh, no. Easy mistake. Being a hermit in the desert doesn’t make you a monk but he looks like one.” Yoda’s head turned to Wallace so fast Ospen thought it would fall off.

“He didn’t take the vows then?” Ospen tried to keep the conversation light but was well aware the tiny master was hanging on every word.

“Vowed to protect the Last Hopes. Trying to outlast the Dark Times,” he shook his head sadly. “Grew old waiting for hope to bloom again, just like Yoda. Shame really. He was pretty hot when he was young.”

Yoda turned back around, trying to look normal. Si had never taken his eyes off the young knight, but his brain was whirring, he was watching with the Force as much as with his sight. “Come for tea next week, Master. We’ll chat with Wallace. Bring Kenobi’s picture or something of his to prompt him.”

Yoda sipped his tea, wishing it was ale. Or harder. “Do that I will.”

Obi-Wan finished the third kata, doused his blade and returned to attention.

“Do the Foundational Six kata,” Si kept his gravelly voice steady. Obi-Wan looked them over, probably sensing something was amiss, but nodded and obeyed, knowing this particular kata took basic elements of the first six lightsaber forms and was often used to illustrate how each form might suit a Jedi.

“How long since his Trials?” Si’s eyebrows went up in his otherwise stern face, but Yoda, used to Obi-Wan’s style was not sure what he had noticed.

“Just over year.”

“His technique is very advanced.”

“Cin to Junior Knight ranks moved him few years ago.”

“It shows. How’s his personality? Patience? Drive? Emotionality?”

“Idea you have.”

“Perhaps.”

“Patient for age, but young still. Impulsive can be, but battle with Sith life changing experience was. Always very driven, very determined was. Difficult apprenticeship. Emotionally neglected. Could never meet Jinn’s standards. Very good knight but doubts has he.”

“His Force signature is strange. He feels much stronger now that he’s doing katas.”

“Alderaani on his mother’s side.”

“Really? Did they ever look into that?”

“One gene identified is. Have it he does. Different from Correlian mutation is. More genes involved may be.”

Obi-Wan finished his kata and again returned to attention. His flight suit fortunately allowed the necessary range of motion, but also gave a good view of how he moved. Si had always had his students strip down to undertunics for their first evaluation, if not leotards, needing to physically see how their bodies moved to spot strengths and weaknesses. He used the Force of course, but he was a visual person. Knight Kenobi’s style was graceful, elegant, but he had reached his limits on Ataru alone.

“Do an advanced kata of your choosing. One you are very comfortable with.”

Obi-Wan nodded, considering for a moment, taking in the dimensions of the space available, then began the advanced version of the Four Winds kata. Si continued to watch intently, while Yoda closed his eyes, feeling the movements in the Force. Master Clearing commented that it was the Four Winds and began chattering about it to Brother Ospen.

After several minutes, Obi-Wan finished the kata, held the final position a moment more, then returned to attention. Si nodded. “Sit, catch your breath, have some tea.” He reached into the chest Brother Ospen had left at his feet and pulled out a battered training droid. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, but he did as he was told, getting a cup from the cart and sitting next to Yoda, who gave him a grateful smile.

“Practicing your katas you have been. Slack off young knights sometimes do.”

“We can’t afford to.”

Yoda patted his shoulder. “Know this I do. Cin ignoring you was not, others in greater need were.”

“I understand, Master.”

The droids suddenly lit up, beeping in harmony. “Got it!” Si’s grin was positively gleeful. He began running the small floating droids through their checks, ensuring each could still fly, that the low-powered blasters were charged and that they still responded to his commands, both from the remote system and telekinetically. Before the shaking had become noticeable, he had had Engineering build him a set of gloves that let him control up to ten droids at one time with just finger movements. Gradually he had adapted to manipulating them by a pressure pad that could respond to a light, telekinetic touch, but he was out of practice so ten was going to be outside his abilities. (He realized he should also drag out the Breggle stones before Yoda’s next visit if he didn’t want to royally embarrass himself). He turned to his master. “Do you want to help?”

Obi-Wan gave them both a wary look. He was used to getting trounced with a lightsaber, but getting trounced with multiple blaster-equipped training droids sounded considerably worse.

“Start you will. Help if necessary I will.” Clearly this was Si’s show as far as Yoda was concerned.

Si reached into the chest, pulled out a faded blindfold and tossed it into Obi-Wan’s lap. Like most knights who had hoped to leave such exercises in their padawan days, Obi-Wan looked resigned but he didn’t complain.

“What power setting are we using?”

Denna cackled. “Isn’t that part of the test, Si?”

Obi-Wan stood up, returning his tea cup before answering. “I was more concerned that stray shots or ricochet might injure bystanders or set the garden on fire.”

Brother Ospen gave Si a significant look.

“The young knight it correct, we are not in proper facilities. They are set for 2. Can you set your saber to deflect that low? I think we can recruit Bes and Denna to catch anything that comes our way.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “It has a low range.” He took his position and bowed to the audience before adjusting his saber and putting on the blindfold. “I’ll try not to singe the grass.”

Si watched as he made no move to turn on his saber, aware the droids were now hovering, but hadn’t approached. He started with one, flying in low and for a moment noticeably wobbly until he got back in the groove. Obi-Wan let it circle him, feeling the approach but making no move.

“Good nerves,” Si commented.

“Hmmm,” Yoda agreed.

“Block the shots, but do not attempt to slice the droids. You can send the shots back at them, hits will be tallied, but it won’t deactivate them.”

“Don’t get hit, got it.” His saber was still not powered up.

Si made him wait a few more laps then almost casually sent a shot toward Obi-Wan’s calf. The saber was activated, and the knight moved to deflect it before it hit the leg that was no longer there.

Si grinned, sending in another droid, rapid firing. This young one wasn’t bluffing, he was in tune with the Force and knew this game. Jinn did seem the type of master to engage in blind sparring, and the young knight did not disappoint, meeting the shots with the skills he had been taught. Si sent in another droid.

The spectators looked on with interest, the master pitted against the young man who seemed to know that eventually he would lose but that winning wasn’t the point. The attacks came in many different formations, some requiring rapid position changes across Obi-Wan’s range of motion, often requiring him to deflect the shots that would have hit him and let the others go, others bewildering when multiple droids engaged one area repeatedly. At first Obi-Wan opted to simply deflect, getting a feel for the challenge, but after a few rounds of coordinated attacks, his returns began to hit the droids with greater frequency and Bes and Denna opted to just erect a dampening field with the Force rather than attempt to track stray shots as Si upped the challenge. Obi-Wan was doing well at keeping on an even keel emotionally, maintaining his calm as the droids danced like Breggle stones and the shots came from multiple directions. Si intensified the attack and the knight danced out of the way, again, deflecting what he could and letting the others go.

“Do you see it?” Si asked quietly.

“Hrmmm,” Yoda watched carefully, almost seeing the dance Si was trying to lead the knight into.

Si pushed the droids in close, attacking the chest, forcing Obi-Wan to keep his saber close in front of him as the shots came in at close range, all from slightly different angles, then pulled the droids back, keeping the angles the same, yet Obi-Wan maintained the short, tight defense, conserving energy, eschewing the long, graceful sweeps of Ataru.

“Still clever boy you _are_ ,” Yoda patted Si on the arm. “Brought him sooner I should have.” The tiny master was thrilled at the display of skill from both men, but more so at the insights offered. “Film this we should have for Cin.”

“Already on it, Master Yoda,” Knight Loris was moving behind him to get a better angle. “Though I was recording it for the residents who missed the salon. They’ll pick this apart for weeks.”

“Makes us feel useful,” Bes added.

Both men were tiring. Si was using breath techniques to sustain the effort, but not in an alarming way, and Obi-Wan’s brow was gleaming with sweat, his hair getting damp. The droids moved in, seven of them at once and began one last coordinated attack, most in rhythm but one following a completely different drummer, and after a different target set. Obi-Wan was slowing, but still managed to dance around a good portion of the shots, deflected away the ones he could not avoid, and did not drop his guard, even when forced to leap away from the oddball droid. The last shot sent his way ended up speeding toward his forehead and he switched back into an Ataru move, sending the off-rhythm shot hurtling back toward the crowd with surprising speed. Everyone flinched when it shot right through the dampening field, except Master Clearing who had ducked a full thirty seconds before the shot was fired and Master Yoda who held up a hand, stopping the missile mid-air and letting it burn itself out. Deciding that scaring the crap out of Brother Ospen was something he shouldn’t do more than once a day, Si called back the droids and powered them down, one by one, placing them lovingly back in their box, and letting the ancient processor crunch the numbers.

Obi-Wan powered down his saber, gulping down air, but made no move to remove the blindfold. It took a moment for Si to realize he was waiting for permission or the next attack.

“The test is over. Stand down, Obi-Wan.”

The young man bowed before removing the blindfold, then returned to Master Yoda’s side, half-collapsing in the grass, breathing hard to replenish his energy reserves.

“How feel you?” Yoda asked.

“Winded.” Another breath. “Challenged. I feel like I put in my best effort, but as I can’t be sure what you were evaluating, I hope I was up to the task.”

Si huffed. “Is he serious?”

“Always,” Yoda replied. “Saberwork very serious to him. Will probably be comfortable enough for jokes next time.”

“Thank the Force,” Si shook his head. “Life’s too short to be serious all the time.” The processor finished chugging along on the data and coughed up its report. Si pulled his reading spectacles out of his front pocket, put them on and read over the numbers.

“You were definitely up to the task, young man.”

Yoda patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Brother Ospen got up and brought the young man a cup of cold water from the cart. Obi-Wan nodded his thanks, still breathing hard as he recovered.

“The droids fired just under one thousand shots during the session. Overall, you deflected more than forty percent of the ones aimed at you and the percentage increased as you got the hang of it. You hit the droids on the return eighty-seven times, were hit yourself four times, and only tried to murder Brother Ospen once.”

“I’m sorry, Brother Ospen.”

“Our fault,” Bes looked apologetic. “That last one came in hot.”

“Tsk, and to think, Master Yoda, I won’t be sending him back to Cin with a burn in the center of his face. I must be losing my touch.”

Yoda snorted. “Used to sneaky old men he is.”

Obi-Wan sighed, his breathing almost normal now. “I still got hit four times. That’s three times more than dead.”

Both Yoda and Si could hear Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice in that last remark. For a moment, Si could remember that quiet, uncertain boy who had been packing his dishes, more than happy to do chores for a stranger because Yoda had asked him to, and Yoda was someone he _could_ please. Just like now. Yoda had asked and he met the challenge head on, determined to not disappoint because this elder wasn’t always disappointed in him from the outset.

“Cool down you should, before stiff you get,” Yoda advised. “Also, talk about you we must.” Yoda made shooing motions. Obi-Wan finished his water, then began his cool down routine, moving over slightly so he wouldn’t wear out the same patch of grass.

Yoda looked at Si intently, but Si was looking at Obi-Wan over the rim of his glasses, watching the way he moved, curious as his Force presence seemed to cool and dim as the pumping of his blood slowed and while he remained attuned to the Force he called on it less. Si could understand why Bes and Denna had not bothered erecting a stronger field, not expecting Obi-Wan to do more than defensively block. He had met Alderaani Jedi before with the odd fluctuating Force presence, but the effect was usually more subtle. He wondered if the Sith had been equally dismissive of his opponent to his obvious detriment.

“Do you know what I’m thinking, Master?” Si asked, still watching and evaluating.

“Think so I do. Sufficient you think that will be?”

“I do. How’s his Breggle?”

“Breggle?” Bes laughed. “Are you training him for the monastery?”

“It shows his ability to focus on multiple points in the three-dimensional space,” Si explained. “Breggle wasn’t always just a game old, decrepit Jedi played.”

“Having trouble with snake technique. Held ten stones in Stellar Dance, second try. Have not played this rest period, Cin’s class more important is.”

“How many could he snake with?”

“Six before losing off ends. Trouble with clicks.”

“How many lessons did you give him?”

“One so far. Not know if practice he has been doing.”

“One?” Si scrolled to another part of the report, a graph that showed hits in red, redirects in green, and unconnected shots in blue as they were fired over time. The few times Obi-Wan had been hit were at the height of intense attacks, when many Jedi would resort to trying to block the onslaught with the Force directly and flee or just protect vital organs in a combat situation. The young man had a fine repertoire with Ataru. Now he needed the complementary skills.

“Concerned he will be with no offense.”

“He already knows how to attack, and that last shot shows he can switch forms on his own. He needs a strong foundation. He kept calm and cool, even with six droids in formation and did not miss the seventh which fired out of sequence. You’ve had him meditating and attuning himself to the Force. He starts to fall apart if he loses his composure, but he recovered quickly under terrible strain. The aggressive forms don’t suit him, his strength is in the calm.’

“Need not hybrid forms does?” It was a rhetorical question. Yoda clearly agreed with the assessment.

“He doesn’t need it. He’ll figure it out on his own. Yes, he should dabble in the other forms when he’s older, but I think he’ll go further this way. Niman is below his skill.”

“Really?” Bes seemed surprised, openly listening to the evaluation, but still not following the reasoning.

“Stagnate would he?”

“Yes. Let him develop his own hybridization to suit him.”

“Explain that you must. Understand he will not.”

Si passed the processor to Bes, showing the shot graph. “Four hits, Bes. While blindfolded. _Four_. Niman would waste his time, but on the surface it seems the logical choice.”

“So, Shien or Djem So if he needs both offense and defense?” Bes asked, interested for more academic reasons.

“Physically he’s too small for Djem So as a base,” Si explained. “He could certainly make use of Shien, but he already has Ataru.” Si turned to Yoda. “How is his L/U balance?”

“U,” Yoda replied. “Big U. L improved has with independent study, but Unifying Force has more natural talent in.”

“I think it’s decided then,” Si put away the rest of the equipment and his spectacles. Bes ran through the options in his head, trying to figure out what hadn’t been eliminated.

Yoda smirked at Si. “Knew you did before report. Figured out during dance you did.”

Si shrugged. “That’s why we dance, Master. If I can’t get out on the floor anymore, droids will have to do.”

“Tell Cin you should. Still unsure what to do with him he is.”

“Cin is cautious, as he should be. I’ll send him the data.” Si sat back in his chair, satisfied. “Jinn is going to have kittens.”

Yoda chuckled heartily. “Only if convince him you do.”

“He won’t just take my word for it?”

“No. Maybe mine.”

“Good.”

The penny dropped for Bes. “What, really?”

Sophia finished converting the data to a sendable format and packaged it with the footage. “Did you need me to send this to anyone other than the two of you?”

“Drallig,” Yoda and Si said together. Sophia laughed and shook her head at them.

Obi-Wan had finished his cool down routine and settled into a meditation pose, quieting his mind, waiting to be called. It was clear he felt the group were his elders, people he viewed with respect. It would be interesting to see if he spoke his mind or ignored the recommendations.

Si nodded at Yoda, trusting he knew the knight well enough to either summon him or wait for him to surface. The tiny master sent out a light Force touch, and a moment later the young man blinked his eyes open then stood and returned to the group, standing before Yoda and Si, attentively waiting for the recommendation. 

“Soresu.”

It was clear from the expression on his face that Obi-Wan was not following his reasoning.

“Disagree you do?” Yoda prompted as much as asked.

“It’s not that I disagree so much as I don’t understand. I’m concerned because Ataru has insufficient defense. Soresu is entirely defense, but offense is lacking.”

“Told you I did, explain you must. Good mind he has.”

“You need a solid foundation. Niman might seem like a better choice for balance, but it’s too simplistic for your abilities. You have the skills of Ataru. Soresu will give you the defense you need to withstand stronger opponents. You’ve already started incorporating defensive katas into your repertoire and are able to integrate moves from different styles. Study Soresu. Master it. It will serve you well. In practice,” Si shrugged. “You’ll find balance with the skills you already have and new ones you develop along the way.”

“Soresu,” Obi-Wan was clearly thinking it over.

“Consult with Drallig you should also,” Yoda reassured him. “But feels right for you this does in Force.”

“It’s an intriguing idea . . .”

“Thinking about it he is,” Yoda patted Si on the arm. “Good job, Padawan.”

“You really think I’m not suited to Niman?”

“Yes,” Si scoffed. “You only died four times. Niman is too simple for you. You would master it quickly, but it would limit you. Certainly, you can learn the katas, but focus on Soresu. It will serve you better.”

Obi-Wan nodded, deep in thought.

“Meditate on it. Try it out you should.”

“Yes, Master.” How bowed to Master Si. “Thank you, Master Silvanus for your time and wise counsel.”

Yoda held up a hand before Si could ask. “Yes, serious he is. Very polite he is.”

Si snorted. “Keep visiting. We’ll break that habit.”

“This should be interesting to see,” Master Bes commented, then turned to address Master Clearing. “What do you think, Wallace? Should Kenobi study Niman or Soresu?”

Master Clearing broke out into peals of bright laughter. “Niman? No!” he giggled harder. “He’s a master of Soresu.”

Denna laughed. “The voice of the future has _spoken_!”

Obi-Wan was looking a little creeped out by Master Clearing, and he hadn’t even heard the worst of it.

“You’re talented enough that you have several options,” Si’s face was serious. “But I think Soresu would serve you best. I won’t be offended if you choose a different path.”

“Think it over, talk more we will,” Yoda beckoned him over. “Come, sit. Good job you did.”

“Thank you, Master.” Obi-Wan got a fresh cup of tea, offered refills all around, then sat down in the grass beside Master Yoda, a bit quiet, but joining the conversation from time to time. Brother Ospen was pleased to see Si make plans with Master Yoda to play some Breggle later in the month. Yoda suggested Obi-Wan should come if his schedule allowed so he could see a live game in action with more than one player. The young knight agreed, assuming Master Drallig wasn’t planning to beat him into the ground. Gradually, the sun grew low in the sky, Master Yoda said his goodbyes, and Obi-Wan pushed the tea cart back to the kitchen. He came back, joking that Master Yoda could have whichever shoulder he liked, and the two headed back to the Main Temple.

“Good time did you have?” Yoda asked as they signed out.

“I did, Master. Thank you for bringing me along.”

“Told you I did. Fit in well you would. Liked you they did.” He patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Sorry I am that attacked you were.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Master, but that woman shouldn’t stay here.”

“Brother Ospen said Security call you will. Talk to them you can?”

“I will, Master.”

“Arm better?”

“Yes, Master. I’m all ready for fresh bruises tomorrow.”

“Doing well you are. Good to see how you grow.”

“Would you like to go to the Master’s Tower or the Council Tower, Master?” Obi-Wan asked as they reached the main intersections. “Or somewhere else?”

“Carry me whole way you do not have to do.”

“I know.”

Yoda sighed. “Master’s Tower. Meditate I must. Rest you should too. Tepid shower for arm. Stretching exercises before bed. Sleep on it not.”

“Yes, Healer Yoda.”

Yoda snorted as they entered the Master Tower lift. “Thank you I do. Made Si feel useful you did. Bored he gets, spar he no longer can.”

“He spars pretty well with those droids of his. If he’s bored, I know some knights he can drill with. I’m surprised you haven’t recruited him to train the padawans.”

They reached Master Yoda’s door. Obi-Wan let him down carefully.

“Tried I have. Not enough stamina to dance every day, but much wisdom and experience has he.”

“He was your padawan?”

“Yes, before Dooku. Older he is than looks.”

“Thank you for introducing us. Again.”

Yoda put his hand on the palm reader. “Promise I do, next time no chores, no sparring. Make tea you still might.”

“I don’t mind, Master. You have a good night. May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you. Don’t sleep on shoulder.”

Obi-Wan laughed as he headed back toward the lifts, his spirit lighter and his mind full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we got to see more of Obi-Wan's peers, and meet some of Master Yoda's friends. Any thoughts about them? Some of them will continue on this journey with us, so I hope you liked them.
> 
> For the curious, the character of Master Wallace Clearing is loosely based on real life neurological patient Clive Wearing, a man with amnesia whose memory resets every 7-30 seconds due to a viral infection of the brain decades ago, but still retains practical skills. When I was trying to come up with elderly and infirm Jedi living in the retirement home, I thought about Clive Wearing and wondered what a patient with his unique injuries would be like while still getting cues from the Living and Unifying Force, thus Master Clearing was created.
> 
> Clive Wearing's real life story is fascinating and if you want to know more, there are links below.
> 
> Wikipedia entry: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clive_Wearing  
> Clips from documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vwigmktix2Y  
> Full documentary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_P7Y0-wgos&t=628s


	7. Part VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Master Drallig schools the young knights, Sith are discussed, Master Si thought he was more discreet, Master Bes gets his mind blown, Master Clearing knows more than you think and Yoda has some gossip for Brother Ospen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from "Stronger" as recorded by Kelly Clarkson.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xn676-fLq7I
> 
>  **WARNING:** Sexually active seniors talking about sex.

_What doesn't kill you makes you stronger,_

_Stand a little taller,_

_Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone._

_What doesn't kill you makes a fighter,_

_Footsteps even lighter,_

_Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone._

\-- Jorgon Kjell Elofsson, David Gamson, Alexandra Tamposi, Greg Kurstin “Stronger”

“Good morning!” Kressa breezed into the Battlemaster’s classroom and sat down next to Obi-Wan. “Ready for another day of getting smacked around?”

“Yes, actually,” Obi-Wan smiled back.

Kressa looked at him suspiciously. “You could barely move two days ago.” She leaned in close, “What’s your secret?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Good masseuse.”

“I’m getting their name later.” She turned to face forward as the rest of their classmates trickled in. “Do you smell burn salve?”

“That’s me,” a Dresselian with bright, shiny burns on his wrists came in and sat in front of Kressa. “You’re lucky you were just given katas. For the rest of us, yesterday was Burn Day.” He looked back at Obi-Wan. “Ready to hit the wall again?”

“Liniment is restocked.”

The rest of the class limped in and the Dreselian had been correct. Everyone sported burns, shiny with salve or covered in gauze. The last was a tall Noorian with a bright burn across his sword arm that would have resulted in amputation had Master Drallig’s saber been at full power. He was dressed in a sleeveless tunic to keep the wound from getting irritated, but also seemed to be showing it off. He looked down at Obi-Wan as he took the seat next to him.

“You missed some great sparring yesterday, Wall-Boy,” he snickered. “Got to learn to take the burn. No sense getting hurt in practice.”

“I made good use of my time.”

Master Drallig entered the classroom with Master Gi-Ho, his teaching assistant just as the chime rang. As usual, no one was late.

“Good morning. I trust everyone has treated their wounds.” Master Drallig walked up to the front of the room and looked the students over. There were affirmative murmurs. He turned his sharp eye to Obi-Wan. “Ready to work today?”

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Good. Let’s see where everyone went wrong so we don’t spend another day repeating mistakes.” At his nod, Gi-Ho flicked off the light and clips from the previous day’s sparring began to play on the screen at the front of the room.

The first clip showed Kressa squaring off with Master Drallig in the small training salle where the Battlemaster trained individual students without an audience. The two of them moved back and forth across the room, a little slower than typical for an open spar. Kressa was obviously nervous but she had good technique and kept her focus on her opponent. As the duel went on, Master Drallig increased the tempo and Kressa adapted well. After a few minutes Master Drallig became more aggressive, switching to Djem So to drive her back across the salle and over the line. She continued to try to block the onslaught, but eventually was backed into a corner and disarmed.

“What mistakes is Carlin making?”

“She can’t defend against Djem So,” the Noorian piped up.

“That is the _effect_ , not the mistake.”

“Her block is weaker on the left,” Obi-Wan answered.

“Is it?” Master Drallig replayed a sequence of moves, the class watching intently. It was slight, but it was there and on second viewing it was clear Master Drallig was exploiting it. “How could you tell?”

“I’ve sparred with Kressa before,” Obi-Wan admitted. “But you can see in the clips she twists to the side because she has uneven strength.”

Master Drallig played another clip, freezing it at one frame and drawing a line on the screen to trace the twist, like an artist sketching a posed model. “It’s subtle, but there.” He looked at Kressa. “It’s more obvious to your opponents because they can feel the relative strength of your hits from either side. Do you understand now why I sent you to do offhand katas with Gi-Ho yesterday?”

“Yes, Master Drallig. I need to strengthen the left.”

“Who do you spar with?”

“Knight Vos, mostly. Obi-Wan joins us sometimes if we’re on missions or rest periods together.”

“When you fight or pair-spar with Vos, is he on your left?”

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Switch sides half the time when you pair-spar. You don’t always get to pick what side you’re on in the field.” Master Drallig replayed the earlier clip before he had switched to Djem So. “Your technique has improved since your trials. You defend well against standard forms, and your strategy is good. We need to work on building your strength and increasing your speed during the workshop.” He moved to another clip where he was driving back across the line. “Why did you keep fighting after I pushed you out of the ring?”

Kressa looked very confused for a moment. “Because you told me not to drop my guard until you called the match?”

“Correct. And you kept up. Good job.” He moved on to the next series of clips. “Newton.” In the clip he pushed the young knight across the line. The knight promptly dropped his guard to catch his breath and got burned on the arms. Newton blushed and scrunched in his seat. “Dallo.” Another knight dropped her guard as she stepped over the line and caught Master Drallig’s blade across the neck. “Pho.” Dropped their guard and got their own saber pushed into their hair, which had been singed, and an additional shoulder burn. “Kecklan.” Dropped the guard and got burned on the thigh and wrists. “Ruval.” The Noorian had left a painfully large opening on his side and as soon as he stepped across the line Master Drallig had smacked across his upper arm with the low power blade.

Master Drallig turned to the class. “I take it you’ve learned not to drop your guard in the middle of a fight now?” There were murmurs of agreement. “Good. Let’s see if you do better this afternoon.” He turned back to the screen behind him, watching as it played a montage of clips from the previous two days. “The purpose of this class is to both prepare you for future threats and to strengthen weaknesses in your technique now that you are knights.” The clips were a mix of both good and bad examples of their fighting. “The Jedi have always faced the threat of their fellow brothers and sisters turning to the Dark Side of the Force, but as some of you are aware there have been recent developments that indicate an organized group of Dark Side Force users independent of the Jedi are also in play. How many of you have fought for your life before?” Everyone raised their hand. “With your lightsaber?” The hands stayed up. “With a Force-sensitive opponent?” Only Obi-Wan, Kressa and Ruval kept their hands up. “When that opponent also had a lightsaber?” Obi-Wan’s hand stayed up. The rest of the class looked at him. “It shows.” He called up a new clip. “As you may have noticed, Obi-Wan did not join us yesterday after I drove him into a wall the day before.” There were a few snickers and at least one student called him ‘Wall-Boy.’ “Obi-Wan, did you drop your guard the last time we sparred when I drove you out of the ring?”

“No, Master Drallig.”

“Did I tell you not to?”

“No, Master Drallig.”

“Why did you continue to defend against my attack?”

“The attack was still coming.”

“Is it common to encounter this in higher level sparring?”

Obi-Wan looked a bit uncomfortable being singled out but pressed on. “Yes, Master Drallig. In very intense bouts your opponent may not realize you have stepped over the line, particularly if they are using some of the more aggressive attacks such as Shien, Djem So or Vapad.”

“Did I teach you that?”

“My master did. You reiterated it.”

“How long have you been a knight?”

“Fourteen months.”

“How long have you been practicing at the Junior Knight Level?”

“About four and a half years, Master Drallig.” That raised some eyebrows.

“Let’s see how you did two days ago.” Master Drallig played the clip in full, reminding the students that on day one there were no directions given about not dropping their guard. Obi-Wan faced off against Master Drallig, Ataru against Djem So starting at full speed, no strikes pulled, although the sabers were on low for safety reasons. They danced across the floor, Master Drallig clearly leading the spar but Obi-Wan did get in several solid hits. The master barely spoke, neither urging his opponent on, nor warning him of speed or style shifts as he had with the others. After a few passes to establish his skill level and assess weakness (defense, clearly), Master Drallig kicked it up a notch and pushed Kenobi back across the salle with an aggressive attack, much harder and stronger than he had with the other students. Even Gi-Ho raised an eyebrow in the back of the room. Finally, Master Drallig had the young man backed into a corner and pushed him right out of the ring and kept coming. Obviously outmatched, Obi-Wan still put up an ill-equipped defense, keeping his saber between himself and his opponent, even as he was backed right up against the wall. Master Drallig came down hard from the right-hand side and Obi-Wan could either yield and ‘take the burn’ as his classmate suggested or try to block. The whole class winced as he took option two and was slammed into the cabinet, but he blocked the blow, even managing to keep upright and get himself out of the corner and continue to spar through the pain. Master Drallig called the match and the clip ended. He turned to Obi-Wan. “You ran into a cabinet rather than get burned on a practice saber.”

“If I let that blow fall, I’d be dead or disabled.”

Master Drallig played the clip again, tracing the intended arc. Obi-Wan would have lost at least a forearm, assuming it hadn’t continued into his chest. Cin addressed the class. “You don’t want to injure yourself badly in practice, but you never want to get in the habit of just taking a burn without learning how to defend against it. Look at your burns. What would have happened on high power?” There were several winces and grimaces, particularly from Dallo. “Alright, to the main salle for katas. This afternoon we’ll discuss why you all have to be prepared to defend your life.” Master Drallig nodded to the class, who all stood and bowed just as the chime sounded for the next session. They all filed out and headed to the salle.

Master Gi-Ho gave them all a wry grin as they filed in. “How many of you are familiar with the Foundational Six kata?” Everyone raised their hand. “How many are comfortable doing it from memory?” Obi-Wan and Pho kept their hands up. “Master Drallig wants to see this kata from all of you tomorrow, so he can evaluate your aptitude for each style.” He glanced at Obi-Wan. “He wants _you_ to try it with your new lightsaber.” Obi-Wan cringed. Kressa looked gleeful. Gi-Ho nodded toward the far end of the salle. “Take your new baby over there and start walking though the simpler katas. I’ll come by later. Pho, please demonstrate the Foundational Six to refresh everyone’s memory.”

Obi-Wan walked to the far end of the salle. He had only finished the new saber last week. _It_ might be ready for demonstration, but _he_ wasn’t. Still that was why he was here. He hung his outer tunic and tabard in one of the cubbies with his single-crystal saber, then stepped onto the mats, took his position and fired up the new one. Across the salle, Gi-Ho stopped watching Pho a moment to admire the sound of it.

Gi-Ho had Pho run through the kata twice, then spread the student around the salle, practicing the Foundational Six, though he told Pho to move on to advanced katas of their choice after they were comfortable performing the former for the Battlemaster. He walked from student to student, making corrections, suggestions, or having them repeat parts at half speed to ensure everyone had the details right. Eventually he got back to Kenobi.

The new baby was a little cranky, or rather Obi-Wan was having a little trouble adjusting to the new blade. It was normal and expected. He had only limited experience with his master’s multi-crystal blade (thought he had certainly put it to good use). Gi-Ho watched for several minutes as Obi-Wan worked through basic katas, trying to get a feel for how this new saber moved.

“You’re clenching too tight,” he said at last. “I’m surprised you can after that hit.”

Obi-Wan doused the blade and shook out his arms and then each hand. “It’s very different.”

“Yup,” Gi-Ho remembered new-blade awkwardness all too well. “Feels like you’re a new initiate again, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, a very clumsy initiate, possibly inebriated,” Obi-Wan grimaced. “Any suggestions?”

“Just what you are doing now, getting used to it all over again. I’ll send someone over to spar with you at half speed. Try intervals of katas with intervals of slow spar. Or do a mirror exercise with someone. Sometimes it helps to go backwards too, so you focus less on what’s wrong and more on just the movement.” Gi-Ho grinned. “That’s a lovely baby.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan ignited the blade again and began a basic kata backwards. The look on his face was comical, but the moves were smoother.

“Keep at the simple stuff. Worry about Six later.”

Obi-Wan nodded and went back to work. Sometime after, Kressa was sent over to slow spar. She laughed when she saw how awkward his moves had become.

“I think you should spar like this all the time. I’d win more often.”

“You win often enough,” Obi-Wan grunted as he overcompensated and almost fell over.

“Only from sneaky tricks that Quin teaches me.”

“Lots of saber wins are whoever has the sneakiest tricks.” He stumbled again in the other direction.

“So, who is the magic masseuse?”

“Master Yoda.”

“Seriously?”

Obi-Wan managed to connect solidly with her blade, though his technique was still a bit drunk-looking. “It was a little intense, but very effective.”

“How did you convince him to massage your arm?”

“I carried him around, poured him tea and looked pathetic. Also, he wanted me to do something.” Solid hit.

“Master Gi-Ho thinks Master Drallig is going to recommend Niman for me.”

“It fits with your affinity for sneaky tricks.”

Kressa stuck her tongue out at him as he stumbled again.

“Someone said I should try Soresu.”

“Really? That sounds so . . . stuffy.”

“I should argue I’m not stuffy, but I don’t think I can.” Solid hit and second hit.

“No, you really can’t. But you _are_ worried about defense. Why not Niman?”

“They said I needed a good foundation and would stagnate in Niman.”

“Are you sure you won’t stagnate in this class? You seem to be ahead of most of us.”

“It’s only the third day, and I’m already tripping over my own feet like an initiate drilling with a stick.”

“A _hot_ stick.”

“It’s on low.”

“You want to switch back to katas? Gi-Ho suggested you mirror me on F-Six so I can learn the steps and you can learn to move like a sober bantha instead of a drunk one.”

“Yield,” Obi-Wan stepped back, doused the blade and shook himself out.

“Why did everyone else drop their guard yesterday?”

“They’re still following the rules. The Battlemaster may have told them not to, but the rules of sparring are deeply engrained. You work with Vos. You can handle an unconventional rule change.”

Her face grew somber as she positioned herself to start the kata and Obi-Wan moved to mirror her, doing everything in the opposite direction. “Your master was pretty unconventional too.”

“He is.” Obi-Wan’s tone was neutral. “But in this case, he knew what happens when you let your guard down and made sure I did too. It’s kept me alive more than once.”

“So that Sith had a lightsaber?”

“Double-bladed light staff, actually. Though I’ve faced off against other saber wielders before. The padawan Master Jinn had before he trained me turned to the Dark Side. We fought him several times.”

Kressa blinked as they went through the kata together. “Wow. Your apprenticeship sucked.”

“It was an interesting crucible, but not typical, no.”

They went silent as the kata became more complex.

“You should spar with us more often. You’re more on par with Quin than me, but you’re challenging.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched. “You two have a very interesting style, together and apart. I always learn something new when we practice.”

“Are you just being nice?”

“No, I’m being honest _and_ nice.”

“Oh.”

“But if I get the hang of this _thing_ , I’m still going to throw you around the salle with it. Maybe by next week.” His moves were getting smoother.

“You want to try it side by side next run through?” They were almost at the end.

“Sure. Wouldn’t want Master Gi-Ho to think I had any skill whatsoever.”

They finished the kata. Kressa laughed.

After running through the Foundational Six several more times, the knights broke for lunch, rehydration and stretching routines before heading back to the classroom. Gi-Ho reported to Master Drallig on their progress: Pho demonstrated the Foundational Six well, Dallo had needed some minor correction in the Shien section, Kressa had improved a lot despite little previous experience, and Obi-wan was no longer stumbling like a newborn nerf.

Master Drallig thanked him, assigned reading on the traditional six lightsaber forms (which Obi-Wan had already done, so he was assigned further reading), then began the afternoon lecture.

“There are certain rumors going around the Temple about Dark Force users being involved in the skirmish on Naboo. What have you heard?”

“There are rumors it was a Sith, that it had two lightsabers, and that it nearly killed Master Jinn,” Dallo reported.

“I heard it was using the Form VII and there is no defense against it,” replied Kecklan.

“I heard Master Jinn killed it, but it got him through the chest as it died.” Ruvall looked very interested in learning how to kill a Sith without dying with it.

“Anyone else?”

“I heard it can channel the Dark Side and make you lose your center,” Newton’s voice was fearful.

Kressa looked at Obi-Wan, who was staring at his desk. “I heard there might be more out there.”

Master Drallig glanced at Obi-Wan but did not call on him to speak. “That is not gossip, Carlin. That’s prudent and practical thinking. That’s what this class is preparing you for, in case you are the next Jedi unfortunate enough to run across this group of Force users, whether they are Sith or not. A Dark Force user powerful enough to nearly kill Qui-Gon Jinn did not grow in a vacuum. Here must be others for this one to attain that level of skill and competence. Whether they are Sith or something else remains to be seen and is frankly less relevant. Today we are going to study our newest competition. It’s not enough to just learn to deflect blasters and spar with your friends. You may just have to fight for your life against someone trained to kill you.” He glanced at Obi-Wan again, who was now at attention. Gi-Ho killed the lights and a still of the Zabrack holding his long, unlit staff came up on screen, cropped to cut out scenes of the battle and slightly blurry with magnification.

“This is our adversary. He is trained in the art of lightsaber combat, he is not limited to drawing on the Light Side of the Force and he uses styles the Jedi do not teach. We were able to get very good footage from the security systems of both the native Naboo and from the invading Trade Federation. Some of what you will see is also recreated from testimony of witnesses and survivors, as well as extrapolations from different camera angles. I must remind you that this is very sensitive information and should not be shared with non-Jedi and outside the Temple walls, but you should definitely take what you learn here to inform you in your training and if you should encounter a similar adversary, in your battles.”

Kressa noted he said ‘similar’ adversary, which could mean there were more like him or could mean this one was dead. She looked at Obi-Wan again. His hands were clenched, but he was otherwise maintaining his calm.

Master Drallig started the first clip. It showed the same perspective zoomed out, with Master Jinn and his padawan encountering the Dark warrior and removing their robes while it lit up not one, but two blades of its staff. There were soft gasps and exclamations at that. Kressa could hear Obi-Wan’s breath catch in his throat and when she glanced at him he was looking down at his desk.

“Are you okay?” she whispered. He nodded but did not look up. She turned her attention back to the screen.

In the footage, Master Jinn and his padawan had engaged the Sith directly, full on Ataru with flips, jumps and strikes. It was absolutely terrifying how easily the Zabrack fended off both of them, his red staff spinning, whirling and blocking. The padawan was kicked away several times, once falling off a catwalk, but kept reappearing, catching back up to the fight. Eventually the Dark Zabrack led Master Jinn into a set of cycling doors, the fight grinding to a halt.

Kressa looked back at Obi-Wan. He was still staring at his desk, still trying to keep his composure. She reached out and put a hand on his forearm. He nodded. She looked back at the screen. The fight had resumed, with the padawan trapped behind the energy gate. Master Jinn continued to do battle and an audible gasp was heard when the Sith knocked him in the chin, followed by louder exclamations when he was run through and collapsed. The red door opened and the padawan charged out, fresh and determined. There were more sharp breaths as the battle raged, each tying to get the upper hand before the Zabrack lashed out with the Force and the padawan disappeared down a hole in the floor. The Zabrack stood over the pit, gloating, and ran his saber along the edge, shooting sparks and the students realized he must not be far down. The Zabrack paused, continued to stare and the padawan suddenly shot out of the hole and cut the Zabrack in half at the waist before turning to his master as the clip cut off. The total silence of the footage made it even more eerie.

Kressa glanced back at Obi-Wan. His eyes were still on the desk. _Kriff, no wonder he has baggage._

“Ruval? Is there a reason you stopped paying attention to the presentation?”

The Noorian huffed. “Wall Boy was being disrespectful.” The _again_ was silent, but still heard.

Obi-Wan winced very slightly.

“I’m aware of Obi-Wan’s attention. I’m asking about yours.”

“He, . . .” Ruval huffed again. “This class is a privilege he hasn’t been taking seriously and I was just . . . appalled.”

“And you missed the playback. Can you explain why you are pre-occupied with Obi-Wan’s attention in this class and not your own?”

“He’s been disrespectful, Master Drallig.”

Obi-Wan winced again.

“He’s missed class, he’s not paying attention, and he’s disobedient.”

“In what way?”

Ruval blushed, realized he had said more than he intended. “He’s been consulting other masters and training when you told him not to.”

Cin raised an eyebrow.

“Masters Nori and Gi-Ho were talking about it.”

Obi-Wan shrank a little.

“Obi-Wan, did you consult other masters and demonstrate your skills after being told to rest yesterday?”

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Why did you not follow my instructions?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “Master Yoda asked me to.”

“And does Master Yoda outrank me?”

There was a moment of silence. “Technically yes, as Grandmaster he does.” Several students stifled their laughs.

“What do you think, Ruval? Does the Grandmaster outrank me?”

Ruval opened his mouth to deny this, but his brain caught up before he actually spoke. “Um.”

“I suppose I should clarify, in the event any of you are similarly confused. In the salle, I am the only master you will know and obey. I set the rules and guidelines of training for your safety and welfare, in the salle, in the Temple and when you go out into the galaxy as Jedi. So, if Master Yoda is barking orders in my salle, you can tell him to come see me. And if instead Master Yoda comes up to you with that wheedling little face of his and wants you to do a few katas for his little friends,” he glared at the class, but landed on Ruval. “I don’t care if your Force-damned arm is falling off, you kiss that little toad’s clawed feet and you do whatever he damn well tells you to do.”

Gi-Ho snorted in the back of the classroom. Obi-Wan relaxed slightly.

“Obi-Wan!”

The knight twitched.

“Who did you perform katas for yesterday, whose opinion you and Master Yoda find so important?”

Obi-Wan’s voice was very quiet. “Master Silvanus.”

“Simet Silvanus. Former Battlemaster. Master duelist. Brilliant strategist. Formidable Jedi.” He looked the class over. “The great _retired_ Master Silvanus does not grant an audience to just anyone, so if you are ever offered the opportunity to dance with him and show off your skills, I’d better _not_ see you here instead.”

“Yes, Master Drallig.” several of the students replied, tension easing.

“Unless that happens, I expect you’ll all be here tomorrow to analyze the data he sent over and we can decide if Obi-Wan used his downtime well or not.” Obi-Wan looked a bit embarrassed. Drallig looked back at Ruval. “Now, Ruval, are you prepared to give a verbal analysis of the battle with the Sith, or did you miss most of it worrying about things that are not your concern?”

Ruval slumped, chastised. “No, Master Drallig. I um, missed the ending.”

“Pity, that was the best part.” He addressed the whole class. “I know this is difficult and frightening to see and accept. Even _masters_ who ought to know better find all sorts of reasons to get distracted so they don’t have think about it, but it _is_ necessary.”

He looked at Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan, can you describe the footage I just played?”

Gi-Ho glared at Cin, incredulous.

“No, Master Drallig.” Deep breath. “I didn’t watch it.”

“Can you describe the battle to the class?” he asked, more gently.

There was a long silence. “Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Begin.”

“The Zabrack came into the hanger, his intentions were not clear. Master Jinn directed the security forces to stay with the queen as she was a likely target. We shed our robes and engaged with him.”

There were several surprised sounds as the students realized Obi-Wan was the padawan in the somewhat grainy footage.

“He was very fast and very powerful. He led the fight, drawing us where he wanted to go, and pushing me out of the fight several times. Master was better at keeping up with him, but he . . . he was better than we were, and he was trying to kill us. Master Jinn had engaged with him briefly before and barely escaped.”

Cin nodded at Gi-Ho who restarted the silent footage again.

“How did he feel in the Force, Obi-Wan?”

“He was cold, but it burned to look too closely, like a sharp wind on Hoth. We had to watch him, study him to see what he would do, but it . . . it seemed to drain me, and . . . and he seemed to push at my control, making me angry, fanning my fear.”

“How did you survive?”

“I was lucky, and he made a mistake.”

“What mistake did he make?”

“He let down his guard.”

Gi-Ho let out a small bark of laughter.

“He should have killed me while I was hanging in the pit. He waited too long, let me calm down and refocus. And he forgot about my master’s saber.”

“He was toying with you.”

“Yes.”

“What mistakes did you make?”

“I got pushed out of the fight too many times. I lost control and focus after Master Jinn was struck down. I didn’t keep up when my master needed me. I let the Sith lead the fight.”

Cin walked up behind Obi-Wan and leaned down until he was speaking into his ear, though in the dead silence the whole class could hear him. “What mistakes did Master Jinn make?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, breathing slow and controlled.

“He, . . . he let himself be led.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open to see his former master on the screen, following the dealer of death into the narrow hallway, doors opening ahead of him as if it were planned.

“He didn’t wait for me to catch up.”

“What else?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes were riveted to the screen now, and he was breathing hard. “He followed that tattooed abomination into a Sith-damned deathtrap and let him separate us because he was so damn _arrogant_ he _thought_ he was _winning!_ That fucking asshole!”

Obi-Wan’s brain abruptly caught up with his mouth and he paled. “I apologize for my language, Master Drallig.”

Cin glanced back at Gi-Ho. “That seemed a fairly good assessment to _me_.”

“Hmm, I believe you called Jinn a ‘kriffing, pig-headed moron with hawkbat guano for brains’ the first time you saw it.” There were a few snickers in the class.

“That was nothing compared to Master Yoda’s reaction. I thought he was going to have a stroke.”

“Master Yoda has an extensive vocabulary,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’m trying not to imagine.”

“Have you ever said that out loud before?” Cin asked.

“Only after a lot of therapy.”

“Whiskey would have been faster,” Gi-Ho added.

Cin resisted the urge to roll his eyes as a few brave souls tittered. “What did you do right?”

“I didn’t die.” Deep breath. “I didn’t panic when I was hanging in the pit. I remembered my master’s weapon was still in play.”

“What else? What was your strategy going in?”

“We couldn’t let him get back to the palace. And we had to disable that staff. He could hold off both of us too easily with it.”

“I agree, that was a good strategy. You were a much better match for him after you took out one of the blades.”

“I . . . I wasn’t. I let him push me into a damn melting pit.” Obi-Wan frowned as he replayed Master Drallig’s comments again. “I . . . I don’t remember breaking his staff. I remember there was one blade but, but I thought Master did that.”

Cin looked to Gi-Ho. “Play it from when he enters the room with the melting pit.” He turned back to Obi-Wan. “I will say it was bad strategy to follow him in there and you were not in a calm mental state, but you put up a very good fight and the Force was with you.” Together they watched the footage, Obi-Wan starting in surprise that yes, he _did_ break the enemy’s staff and he was able to drive him back, the Zabrack who had been so nimble with the staff now hampered by a too long single-bladed saber. “You didn’t lose this bout because of your saber skills, though I agree that you need a better defense. He Force-pushed you, drawing on his anger. You need to learn a defense against that as well.”

“He was stronger than me.”

“Perhaps. But he was drawing on the Dark Side. And he’s the one who ended up dead at the bottom of a melting pit.” Cin narrowed his eyes. “You angered him because you were supposed to be easy to kill after your master went down, and you weren’t. You broke his staff, you kept up with him and you didn’t let him catch a breath. You shouldn’t have gotten between him and the drop off, but the room was very constraining. And you remembered the most important rule.”

The whole class turned to Master Drallig.

“It’s over when you’re _dead_ , not when you _lose_.”

Cin nodded at Gi-Ho who cut the footage and turned on the lights. “We’ll watch this again later in the course, so you can apply what you’ve learned to the analysis.” He looked back at Obi-Wan. “If you can’t watch it again, I understand. You already have more insight than the rest of us can.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “I still see my therapist. I can make an extra appointment if I need to.”

Cin looked around the room. “If the rest of you need to talk about the footage, the training staff have all seen it and there are several healers you can also talk to. Take advantage of it if you need to. This _is_ horrifying. This _does_ shake our faith in the Force. Do not hide or turn away or ignore it. We are Jedi, but we don’t need to face this alone.” He looked each of them in the face. “Alright, everyone into the salle. And don’t piss off Kenobi, he might _sai tok_ you.”

“Not with that baby he won’t,” Gi-Ho snorted. “Well, maybe next week.” The class laughed, tension broken.

Kressa squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder gently as she walked out. The young knight stood slowly, releasing a mixed bag of emotions to be sorted out later in long meditations.

“I’m sorry,” Ruval did not look at him, much less meet his eyes.

“You didn’t know,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I don’t exactly advertise it and Master Jinn and I have become estranged.”

“That thing scares the shit out of me.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Me too.”

* * *

“Should we sound the alarm?”

Brother Ospen peered over the security guard’s shoulder, looking at the screen. Usually the Force and diligent searches solved these problems quickly. On the other hand, a full security alert could be very distressing for some of the more delicate residents (and annoying for the rest).

“Is there anywhere we haven’t checked?” Sister Nellise asked, also not willing to upset the serenity of the residents over a false alarm. They felt no danger from the Force, at least for now.

The security guard tapped at the screen to reveal three areas not covered: two residential and the large terrace.

Sister Nellise bit back a sigh. “I’ll check Denna.”

Brother Ospen nodded at the guard. “You check the Terrace.” He then followed Sister Nellise to the residential dorms. While he rather dreaded disrupting his resident’s during their private time, most of them preferred to be interrupted by staff who had already seen them naked then by Security barging in. Sister Nellise turned a corner to head to Master Denna’s quarters while Ospen approached Master Silvanus’s small suite. If felt the same as it had on the first sweep, privacy shields firmly in place, which is why it had gone unchecked. He took a deep breath, centered himself, then knocked on the door.

“Master Silvanus? I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Come in.” The familiar gravelly voice was followed by the sound of the lock unfastening.

Brother Ospen sighed, used to many residents preferring he let himself in under a variety of circumstances and trusting he would not bother them unless there was a very good reason. He put a hand firmly over his eyes, opened the door just far enough to squeeze in and shut it behind him. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Master Silvanus, but we need to do a head check.”

“That’s alright, Brother Ospen.”

There was a brief silence.

“What is he doing?” asked a voice that distinctly sounded like Master Bes. Brother Ospen was relieved to have located him, though he had definitely _not_ been expecting to find _him_ behind the privacy shields.

“Brother Ospen,” Yoda’s tone was particularly dry. “Dressed everyone _is_.”

Brother Ospen lowered his hand and fortunately did not get an eyeful. He also discovered both Master Bes _and_ Master Clearing (currently admiring the details on a painted tea cup) were in fact in Master Si’s room, there was no need to sound the alarm for missing residents, and there were in fact no salacious activities going on whatsoever.

“Why did he think you were naked?” Master Bes asked.

Si rolled his eyes. “Privacy shields.” He looked at Brother Ospen. “We were just having a discussion on sensitive issues. What did you need, Brother Ospen?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, Masters. We were unable to locate either Master Clearing or Master Bes and were concerned.” He took out his own comm to give the ‘all clear’ signal.

“Thought I had fallen down again?” Bes asked, looking at his prosthetic legs. “Why didn’t you just call?”

“We did, Master Bes.”

Bes pulled out his comm. “New-fangled technology. I’m sorry I worried you, Brother Ospen. I thought I put it on quiet, but I turned the darn thing off.”

“It happens. We were especially concerned as you were the last person looking after Master Clearing and then we couldn’t find either of you.”

“No, we’re both here, safe and sound.” He looked up at Brother Ospen and laughed. “Sorry to worry you. Kind of late in the day for Si to be showering though.”

Si rolled his eyes. “Your polite manners are appreciated, Brother Ospen. I should have realized you would wonder where Wallace had gotten off to. I’ll let the staff know in the future, so you aren’t concerned.”

“Hello, Brother Ospen,” Master Clearing grinned, as if suddenly noticing the monk.

“Good day, Master Clearing. So glad to find you safe.”

For a moment, Wallace looked very puzzled. “Was I supposed to be hiding?”

“No, Wallace. Brother Ospen just couldn’t find you because Si put the shields up and he didn’t want to walk in on Si naked.”

Si looked pained to still be talking about this.

“What day is it?” Wallace frowned. It wasn’t something he usually asked about and it wasn’t as if he would remember it later.

“Thursday, Master Clearing.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry then, Brother Ospen. Si only has sex on alternate Tuesday afternoons.”

The awkward silence was broken by Master Bes laughing. “Wallace, don’t be silly. Tuesday afternoon is when Master Yoda comes by to play Breggle.”

Si looked torn between wanting to glue Wallace’s mouth shut or murder Bes.

“Hmm,” Yoda picked at his gimer stick. “Sometimes Breggle we play. Sometimes not.”

Si would have found the look of shock on Bes’s face hilarious if it weren’t so insulting.

“Kriff, Si. You’re what, one hundred and three years old?”

“One hundred five,” Yoda corrected.

“And you still . . .” he trailed off, shocked. “With _Yoda_?”

Si gave him a pained look. “I moved into the retirement home because my _hands_ stopped working, not my _dick_ , Bes.”

Yoda gave Brother Ospen a knowing look. “Tell him my age I should not. Die of shock he will.”

Brother Ospen chuckled, more amused than scandalized.

Bes turned to Ospen. “And you knew about this?”

Ospen shrugged. “If the shields are low, they are playing Breggle. If the shields are high, they . . . aren’t.”

“Sometimes just talking we are. Old men we are now. But, hmm. Knock you _should_.”

Bes stared at the little master, even more confused. “I thought you were celibate.”

“Why?” Yoda did not seem insulted, merely curious.

Bes opened his mouth to answer, saw Si still glaring at him, then closed his mouth and opted to try to word his answer more delicately. “You tend to wear cassocks without tabards and you always greet the brothers and sisters with traditional monastic greetings. I thought you had taken vows.”

Yoda looked down at himself. He could not deny his wardrobe was particularly monastic. “Correct Vos was. Need better clothes I do.”

Si snorted, despite himself.

“Grew up in monastery I did. Raised with good manners I was.”

“Were you a novice, Master?” Brother Ospen knew Yoda must have lived a monastic life at some point but had never asked.

“Considered it I did. Became padawan instead.”

“What changed your mind?” Brother Ospen asked, without judgment.

“Puberty.”

They all laughed at that, even Master Clearing, who tended to be able to follow conversations with Yoda a bit more easily. Brother Ospen suspected the tiny master either helped him focus or was able to provide context through the Force.

“Alas,” Brother Ospen sighed. “Yet another fine potential monk lost to the scourge of teenage hormones.”

“Teenage?” Yoda cackled. “Twenty-five I was. If twenty-five years old you are when hormones get think supposed to be monk you would too.”

Brother Ospen grew serious. “Not to pry, but should I be concerned about the private discussion?” He was not nosy by nature, but if three of his residents were having a private consultation with the Grandmaster, he did have to wonder if there was a care issue.

“Picking Master Clearing’s brain we are.”

“Master Yoda was concerned about some _predictions_ Wallace made about his little lost duckling,” Si explained. Yoda poked him with his gimer stick.

“His what?”

“That young knight who was here last week,” Bes explained. “When he was a teenager, he used to follow Yoda around like a baby duck when his master was out of the Temple.”

“Stressful time that was for him.”

“Ah, yes,” Brother Ospen thought back. “You seemed very concerned when Master Clearing declared he would not be a monk.”

“Hermit in desert part concerned me did. Nightmares he has had since small child of being alone in desert. Very bad was when teenager and on probation. Thought it meant that ex-communicated he would be. Now adult, still has dream. Like exile it feels he says. Says Force feels wrong does. Thought desert metaphor was. Now think not.”

“That’s ominous,” Brother Ospen frowned. “Did you get anything useful today?”

“His future padawan is possibly a holy terror,” Bes replied. “But Wallace never mentioned a name.”

“Also, Soresu was the correct recommendation for him, that he will trounce Drallig at some point in the distant future and it is the only form that can wear down and defeat ‘the Darkness Enraged.’”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Brother Ospen looked decidedly _not_ reassured. “Anything else?”

“He’s allergic to gulquots. But it’s just a rash and he won’t die.”

“Knew that already we did.” Yoda was looking at Master Clearing, as if trying to make sense of his inherently disordered mind. “Very itchy rash was.”

Brother Ospen had been unaware that Master Clearing’s ramblings might actually have some merit. He’d have to listen closer. He looked over at a small, mounted drawing on the table next to Si. Even upside down from his perspective it was clearly an image of Master Yoda’s face, sketched in pencil, then drawn in with ink. “Is that one of yours, Master Si?” Ospen had never seen it before.

“No.” Carefully holding it by the edges in his shaky grip, Si handed it over. “The duckling did that. Master Yoda brought it to help focus Wallace.”

Brother Ospen turned it right side up. In the picture Yoda had his eyes closed and the lines on his face were softened.

“Drew me meditating he did. Find his center he could not. Made on scrap paper. Found in trash.”

“He threw this away?”

“Embarrassed he was. Did not ask permission. Calmed him it did. Mind I did not.”

“He’s very talented,” Brother Ospen handed the picture back.

“He is,” Si agreed. “He should bring his portfolio next time.”

“Have one he does not. Art work not with things. Not certain if keep them he does not or if lost at eviction. Does have illuminated manuscripts. Very beautiful. Will try to get him to bring.”

“Has he ever tried a drawing meditation when he’s had these repetitive dreams?” Si asked.

“Don’t know. Suggest to Master Pythia I will.”

The afternoon chime sounded. It was time to pass out the next doses of medication. Master Bes stood with a grunt. “Come along Wallace,” Bes stretched his back. “Time for our pills.”

Si stood as well, thanking them both for coming. Yoda hung back, wanting to speak to Si privately. Si closed the door and sighed. The discussion had been frustrating, but he suspected Yoda got more out of it than he had let on.

“Something troubling you, Master?” Si asked as he sat back down on the couch next to Yoda.

“Much troubling me is. But worry later I will.” He put his hand on Si’s and looked him over carefully. “Special visit you want? Ask I have not. Should I have?”

Si picked up Yoda’s hand in his own shaky one, then brought it gently to his lips. “I’ve been depressed,” he admitted. “I haven’t wanted that for a while, but I probably should.”

Yoda leaned against him, offering warmth and care. Si sighed.

“Just because self-care is, do everything alone you do not have to.”

“I know.” He felt his former master reach for him in the Force and let him in, feeling the Light of Yoda’s presence shine on him, flowing into his consciousness. “Next week? I’ll see if I can get the equipment working and it not, well, there’s always Breggle.”

“Strip Breggle option is.”

“We’re trying to get turned _on_ , Master.”

“Wear spectacles not.”

“You remain eternally wise, my Master.”

Yoda chuckled, then moved to leave. “Go, take pills like good boy you are. See you next week I will, if let me out Council does.”

“Let me know if the duckling tries Soresu.”

“Knight he is. Duckling not.” Yoda slid off the couch. “If tell me he does, I will.”

Si chuckled as he picked up his own walking staff with the Force and followed Yoda out.

“We’ll have Wallace over again, Master. I’ll let you know if I hear him say anything important.”

“Know you will I do,” Yoda smiled up at Si as they neared the hall where they would part ways. “Good man you are.”

“Thank you, Master. I just hope it will ease your burdens, not cause more.”

“Impossible to see future is, but ignore warnings we should not.”

They each went their own way. Master Yoda was signing out (and putting off getting into his hover chair) when he noticed Brother Ospen walking by. He hissed to get his attention, then waved him over to the far corner of the lobby.

“Tip for you I have. If visiting Master Bes, _knock first_.”

Brother Ospen frowned at this. “You think Master Bes is taking a lover?”

Yoda shrugged. “Happen might. Happen not. Possibility is.”

“Who?” As far as he knew, Bes had been as celibate as he was, though not due to any vows.

Yoda giggled quietly. “Si.”

Brother Ospen’s face fell. “Oh, Master, did you and Si break up?”

“No,” Yoda scoffed. “Not like that. We are,” he paused. “How say young people? Beneficial friends?”

“Ah, I understand.”

“Bes had crush on Si long ago. Inappropriate then. Sixteen-year-old padawan obsessed with handsome young Battlemaster. Also very modest since legs he lost. No idea he had still active Si is.” He snickered. “Mind blown was.”

“You really think this will happen?” Brother Ospen knew Bes could get very lonely.

“Tell Si cannot. Hard to see own future potential is. Hmm, not right away. Few months? If happen, good for Si would be. Last lover died fifteen years ago. Needs companion with more time to give than grandmaster with too much work.”

“Can Bes tell?”

“No,” Yoda shook his head. “Si tell not. Bes tell not. My own future I see not. But sometimes, see for others we can. Same conversation had with Obi-Wan. Blind to potentials he is, but hmm, not need Wallace to tell me monk probably not. Potential with other knight there is now.”

“Really?” Brother Ospen shook his head. “My Force sense usually isn’t that far off.”

“New development is. As said, in flux. Year ago, hmm, would have brought him to you if Trials not passed. Now, hmm, nope.”

Brother Ospen laughed. If the Force willed it, he would certainly welcome new brothers and sisters to the monastic sect.

“Almost hooked Master Turvis you have. Keep trying,” Yoda winked and powered up his chair.

“It was good to see you again, Master.” He spoke the ritual words of farewell from monk to traveling knight. Yoda responded back in kind, then as he floated away, began singing the traditional afternoon prayer that used to be sung daily but now only on celebratory days. Several monks and nuns poked their heads into the hall, as surprised by the sudden singing as Ospen.

“Ah, Master. In a different life, perhaps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope none of you were traumatized. Brother Ospen wasn't.
> 
> I also hope the lightsaber classes came out okay. Again, my understanding of lightsaber forms is limited.


	8. Part VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinlan Vos gets his first look at a Sith in action, Kressa is glad to have him back, Obi-Wan is getting better with his new saber and new form, the knights learn new uses for Breggle, Cin gets in an open spar, Quinlan and Kressa get to see a show, and several people have sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Lyrics from "To Make You Feel My Love" by Bob Dylan, though you may be more familiar with other artists.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-FlSP0wsF5U
> 
> The link is from Garth Brook's version, but it has also been covered by Billy Joel, Trisha Yearwood, Amy Winehouse and Adele.
> 
> I forgot to put in a shout out in the last chapter. (That's what happens when I post first thing in the morning). The (continuing, ongoing subplot) regarding various Jedi opinions about Qui-Gon Jinn's decisions during the fight with Maul versus Qui-Gon's own opinions, was inspired by chapter 1 of _Tales From the Archive_ by kettish. I hadn't thought about Cin Drallig before and then suddenly I had a subplot and eventually backstory. I characterize him different than kettish did, but I hope you enjoy the direction it took and that is where it came from. 
> 
> **WARNING:** consensual sex acts.

_When the rain is blowing in your face,_

_And the whole world is on your case,_

_I could offer you a warm embrace_

_To make you feel my love._

\--Bob Dylan, “To Make You Feel My Love”

“Quin! You’re back!”

Quinlan tried not to drop his pack and to remember the last time he had showered while Kressa ambushed him with an unexpected bear hug.

“I take it you missed me?” When she didn’t let go, he wrapped his arms around her. “What’s the matter?”

“I was really worried about you,” she murmured into his shoulder. Quinlan frowned. He had been on a solo mission, but it really hadn’t been _that_ high risk. “Kressa, um, are you getting, um, too attached?” He ran a hand up her spine, surprised to find her trembling.

“No,” she pulled away, shaking her head. “There’s something you need to see.”

He looked at her face, stunned to see a few tears on her cheeks. “Um, is it a little stick you peed on?”

She looked confused for an instant. “Oh! No, not _that_. No.” She smacked him on the bicep. “I would have _called you_ if it was _that_.” She grabbed him by the wrist. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” She began dragging him out of the hanger. “Do you need to see the Council?”

“Not tonight. They scheduled me for tomorrow afternoon. Partial Council only.” His mission was important, but not Full Council, Full Scale Invasion important.

“Good. Let’s get you washed, fed and in bed.”

“Are you joining me in this bed?”

She gave a shaky sigh. “Please?”

“Sure.”

They got into a lift to enter the main Temple.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?"

Kressa nodded, still clutching his wrist. “Master Drallig’s class has been really intense.” She took a calming breath. “He showed us the footage of the Sith on Naboo. It’s _really_ disturbing.”

“Aww,” he reached up to wipe a stray tear off her face with his fingertips.

“Master Drallig said I could show it to you because you’re my field partner but the files can’t leave the Temple.”

“Okay.” He really did want to see it.

“Obi-Wan’s in the class too.”

Quin paused. “Is he okay?”

Kressa shrugged. “He couldn’t look at the screen when it was on, but he talked about it in class.” She squeezed his wrist. “I think that’s why he works so hard.”

“How strong was it?” Quin followed her out of the lift and then to the level to reach the Knight’s Tower. “I know Jinn was badly hurt but they both lived.”

“They shouldn’t have.”

Quin grimaced, finding no smart-ass remark to reply.

Finally, back at his quarters, Quin headed straight to the shower while Kressa went to get take away meals from the commissary. Usually one or both of them cooked or reheated food during rest periods, but Master Drallig’s workshops were grueling, so he wouldn’t be surprised if Kressa was stocking up on icepacks and not groceries. He had managed to get himself washed, mostly comfortable and half-dressed by the time Kress has returned. They curled up together on the couch, the holonews on mute in the background, both letting the tension slowly unwind.

“Do I have to go to a secure location to see it?”

Kressa shook her head. “I have access to the files for the duration of the class, but it will block access if I try copy it or watch it too many times. Master Drallig said some Jedi get really obsessed with it. They are going to start a knight’s seminar soon so everyone can get up to speed, but he wants us to be on the same page.”

“What did he say about your form?”

“Drallig, Nori and Gi-Ho all agree I should study Niman, but I should specifically drill with my most frequent field partners so that our styles compliment well.”

“I can see that,” he grinned. “Sneaky little Niman Jedi. Yeah, that could work.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“No. I think being a saber jack-of-all-trades suits you and suits the kind of missions we pull. Sometimes we’re on the defensive. Sometimes we kick ass and take names. Sometimes we just have to smack someone upside the head with a convenient brick.”

Kressa giggled, snuggling closer. Now that she was calmer, Quinlan removed his gloves entirely and began stroking her hair. He could still sense the residual tension and was surprised by how upset she had really been.

“Did you want me to watch this tonight?” he asked.

“Are you going to be able to sleep after?”

“Are you going to stick around whether I sleep or not?”

“I was planning to stick around no matter what tonight.”

“This is really bothering you.”

“Yes.”

He kissed her gently. “Okay. Get the file. I’m game.”

“Thank you.”

He sat up and stretched, then took care of the food debris while Kressa went back to her quarters to get her secured data reader. By the time she came back he was sitting on the couch again, the blinds were drawn and the holonet had been turned off. She handed him the device, then sat next to him, not cuddling as before, but with a hand on his wrist where he had put his gloves back on. He moved her hand to his bare arm, wanting to feel her presence, then started the playback.

It was not like he had imagined. It was not cool, or exciting or entertaining. It was terrifying because it was real, those sabers were hot, and that was their friend on the screen, fighting as he had never seen him fight.

After watching the whole thing twice, Quinlan got up and paced, trying to process the experience. Some more rational part of him was really glad he did not have to see a Sith for the first time in the flesh. Another part of him gibbered that he wasn’t strong enough to fight something like that. Another part wondered how long Obi-Wan had sat alone at the med-center wondering if his master would die, and what could possibly have happened to drive them apart after. It was clear how deep his feelings must have been then.

In the end he walked to the kitchen and got himself an ale. Kressa watched him come back and flop next to her on the couch.

“Well, I think we know why Kenobi wanted that new lightsaber.”

“I would have been dead.” She wasn’t exaggerating. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be okay. But it’s something we’re supposed to learn from.” He put the empty ale bottle on the table. Kressa was sipping at one of the sweet, fizzy, mildly alcoholic drinks she kept in his chiller.

“Can we go to bed? Even just to sleep?”

He kissed her cheek. “Yeah.” They both got up and went to the bedroom, curling up together under the sheets, both feeling cold.

“How long ago did you watch it? The first time?”

“Three days ago. I only watched it in class. Not after. They played it a few times. We’re going to analyze it again later.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“I had a nightmare the first night,” Kressa shuddered. “Instead of Master Jinn and Obi-Wan fighting that _thing_ it was you and me. It took you out like it took out Master Jinn and I was behind the wall, and when the wall opened, I just froze. I woke up as it was stabbing me in the chest.”

He pulled her close. “You’re not dead. I’m not dead. We’re both alive.” In their profession, it was hardly the first time one of them had said so to the other.

“Obi-Wan said it was cold, but it burned too, to feel it in the Force.”

He wondered if that’s why he felt cold, if that Zabrack’s essence had somehow found a way to touch them, even through a recording. A ghost made of dread. He slipped his hand under the hem of Kressa’s shirt, cupping her waist, hoping he didn’t feel cold to her.

“Do you want to, Quin?” she asked in the dark.

“Do _you_ want to?” He slid his hand along her ribs. His fingertips noted a few light bruises healing up, but that was typical after a week studying with Master Drallig.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I might get messy and emotional.”

He reversed direction, sliding his hand back down to them hem of her panties. “It’s okay. I might too.” He slid his hand deeper, starting to tease while the other reached up to fondle her breast. He pressed a kiss to her temple, then began nuzzling her neck. She pressed into him, rubbing against him.

“Kress?” He trailed kisses over her neck. “I might not be able to . . . I’ll make it good for you, but I don’t want you to think it’s you.”

“Hush.” She turned in his arms and pushed him back into the bed. “I understand.” She moved to lay on top of him, sliding her hands along his body, knowing what he liked. “I don’t care if you can’t get it up right now. I just want to feel alive. I just want some part of you, any part of you inside me tonight. Your dick, your fingers, your tongue, your mind. I don’t care. I just want to be alive and not alone.”

“Okay.” His body was starting to take an interest, but much more reluctantly than normal. Opting to take it slow they began undressing each other, kissing and stroking along the way. Quin ran his hands, gloveless again, along her body, tracing her curves and muscle, feeling the distress become slowly eclipsed by desire. He could feel her thigh rubbing between his legs, smell her scent, hear her moan as he kissed along her collarbone. He moved his hand between her legs, fingers stroking, slipping inside as she gasped and gripped him harder, her gentle hands growing more urgent until they were both fully aroused, panting against each other’s skin. He rolled on top of her and entered her, both groaning, more accustomed to a quick roll in the hay and a nap than extended foreplay with each other. They moved together, slowly building heat, vitality, affirmation between them. They were always careful not to get too attached, but Quinlan knew in his heart that he did love Kressa, not as much as partners or spouses were supposed to, but he did. For all her bubbly personality and insistence on keeping everything casual and superficial, he knew that on nights like these she loved him too, as much as Jedi were allowed.

They were both close to climax, he could feel it in the Force, in the tension in Kressa’s body, but a bit of the cold still lingered, keeping them from their goal. Quinlan rolled them over, knowing Kressa could get off more easily on top, and soon she was moaning on every thrust, tears leaking from her eyes as the chill and anxiety burned away. He could feel his body tensing, getting closer, but the chill was still there in him, just a little, so he focused on the woman above him, wanting to ensure she reached the peak she so obviously needed, even if he didn’t. He slipped one hand off her hips where he had been pulling her to him and slid his fingers over her belly, then down, seeking the source of her pleasure. She cried out when he found it, a jolt of pleasure shooting up his hand, up his whole arm as she threw her head back and pushed against him harder, her whole body begging for him to just keep his hand right there, to move just like that. He knew she would climax soon, a few more thrusts, his hand and arm lit up in pleasure almost as much as his cock inside her, feeling her body tighten around him just before the spasms would start and then she surprised him, reaching back to press under his scrotum and a shot of brilliant Force energy, a shot of Light hit in just the right spot and his whole body lit up as if she had physically reached inside him and found his prostate. He thrust harder than he had intended, but she only cried out in pleasure, trembling as they both came, the Force singing around them and banishing the last of the chill. With both of them Force sensitive and open to each other, they clung together, shuddering, feeling each other’s pleasures for several minutes before they pulled apart, laying side by side and breathing hard.

“Feel better?” he asked when he had caught his breath, reaching down to deal with the condom, very grateful that at least the source of her upset was not a little half-Kiffar on the way.

“Yeah, much better.” She reached into his bedside table for the cannister of field wipes, clearing away the worst of the sweat and fluids so they could just sleep. She passed them to Quin, then rolled to her side, inviting him to spoon.

“You have class tomorrow?” he asked, reaching for the chrono to set the alarm.

“No, just homework,” she yawned. “I’m supposed to drill with Obi-Wan. Between his new saber and new form, he’s kind of pathetic in the salle right now.”

Quinlan tossed the trash away, then pressed himself against her, feeling her post-coital contentment all along his naked body where they touched. “What do they have him doing? Djem So?”

“Soresu.”

“Really?”

“He’s having trouble,” Kressa rubbed a hand along his arm. “But he’s getting the hang of the new saber fast. If you really want to kick his ass, time is running out.”

Quin snorted. He knew Obi-Wan sought out tutoring from several masters and having him as a sparring buddy had definitely improved his own skills. He expected their friend would be an even greater challenge after Master Drallig was done with him, even if he did decide to specialize in Soresu.

“Can I come with?”

“Yeah.” She pressed back against him, not a come on, just comfort. “You keep up with him better than I do. And I think he’s missed seeing you.”

“Sounds like a plan then.” He lifted his head to kiss her temple before settling down to sleep, his body still, content and comforted. Kressa pulled his bare hand close, clasping it between her own before she too drifted off to sleep. There were no Sith in their dreams that night.

* * *

“That was horrible.”

“Eh,” Gi-Ho tried not to smile. “It was only really bad.”

Obi-Wan sighed and shook out his arms again. Between the new saber and the new form, he felt like he was flailing around like a child in the creche, trying to recreate a lightsaber battle from an oral description. In a language he didn’t speak.

“Do a kata you’re more familiar with. See how much of your difficulty is the new form and how much is the cranky baby.” Gi-Ho was fairly sure the morning’s discussion on the Sith was also unsettling the young knight but wasn’t going to mention it.

Obi-Wan chose a more meditative kata this time, for the first half the saber remained unlit, and Gi-Ho wanted to smack himself for not thinking to suggest it. Free of both the awkwardness of the new blade and the pressures of a new form, Obi-Wan quickly slipped back into a better mental state, grace and elegance returning to his limbs, his form and flow more natural. At the midpoint he turned the new saber back on and while it was still a difficult adjustment, the grace remained this time. Gi-Ho grinned. It was finally starting to click.

“That was much better.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’ve been doing that one for eight years, so I’d certainly hope so.”

“Do a few more of your familiar katas, I think you’re getting the hang of baby.” He nodded to himself. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He made his rounds of the other students, checking in with everyone.

Dallo was doing well, tightening up her Ataru and learning more of the ground-based attacks, knowing that injury and age meant one could not always rely on aerials, no matter how cool they looked. Pho was learning Shien, as was Kecklan. The two were sparring at half-speed, and it was kind of hilarious to watch their faces, deep in concentration with the unfamiliar movements. Carlin and Newton were both studying Niman. Ruval had been disappointed to be assigned to learn Shien over Djem So (not realizing Master Drallig started all Form V learners with Shien to provide a more solid foundation in the form). Still, he was making a good effort, drilling in the blaster cube. Gi-Ho wondered if they could convince Master Si to visit. The blaster cube was all well and good until the students figured out where all the shots were coming from. They needed something more mobile like Si’s droid fleet, though Gi-Ho was quite sure he would never get the dexterity to be able to control them telekinetically. Si had worked hard to overcome his disability for as long as possible. When Cin had shown the team the footage of the old man’s dusty droids riding again, Gi-Ho had almost cried. He knew Si was too old to train students every day, but if they could pick his brain once in a while . . . well, it would certainly give them a better chance against the Dark than without it. The box finished its firing protocol and Ruval leaned over, gasping for air, his tunic singed in several places. Gi-Ho told him to do a cool down routine, then join him for sparring before cycling back to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan and Baby were getting along much better now. The movements were smooth, sliding seamlessly into one another, and the saber had stopped wobbling and rocking. It was still more effort than Obi-Wan was used to, but the struggling had stopped.

“Much better, much better. We are approaching mediocrity.”

“That is certainly better than total incompetence.”

Gi-Ho laughed. “I think you should put Baby down for a nap and try some of the open hand Soresu katas. Get used to the moves without a blade first. Stop trying to learn everything at once.”

Obi-Wan nodded, feeling better now and not wanting to return to floundering. He put his saber in the cubby, then returned to Gi-Ho, who began demonstrating the next kata. He had seen some of them before but had never had to perform them. The master demonstrated each one of the first three, then performed them with Obi-Wan in front of the mirror, before having him perform all three while he checked for errors then turning him loose to practice. The awkwardness was back as was to be expected, but as before the struggling did not return.

Ruval came over to spar, but stopped next to Gi-Ho, watching Obi-Wan move. “He’s really going to study Soresu over Djem So or Shien?”

“It looks that way. Master Silvanus is usually right about these things and Master Drallig agreed.”

“But he’s fought a _Sith_. How is even going to win if all he can do is block?”

Gi-Ho chuckled. “You call sai tok a block?”

“Well, no.”

“He probably _will_ study Djem So and Shien later, when he’s older. Just like how he’s not going to just lose all his skill in Ataru. We teach to strengths and his seem to be in Soresu.” He looked Ruval over. “Form V suits you better as a base, but after you get what you can in a few years you’ll probably be back to pick up a little Soresu to round you out. Mastery of form, Ruval, not enslavement to it.” Gi-Ho led him off to a free area and began the spar at half speed. Already tired from the blaster box, Ruval didn’t complain.

After midday break, they returned to the classroom. Master Drallig did not turn on the screen, feeling they had watched the battle on Naboo enough damn times. Instead they discussed the fight strategy of the Sith as defined by his actions. The conversation was productive, but Master Drallig changed the subject before everyone could get too tense, instead lecturing on non-combat techniques one could use to enhance their Force connections, or skills that could complement or supplement saber techniques. Obviously Force throws and blows were the most basic moves. Force-choking was frowned upon, but the students were directed to their readings for methods to counteract such attacks. Other techniques were more subtle: mind tricks, voice manipulation, hypnosis. Some were more direct, such as the telekinetic attacks used in Niman.

“Do any of you remember playing Breggle in the creche?”

Most of the students nodded.

“Do any of you still play?”

Obi-Wan raised his hand slightly, but indicated he only knew a little.

“Really?” Cin asked, surprised.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Master Yoda started to teach me on my last rest period, but we didn’t get very far.”

Gi-Ho coughed in the back of the room, the sound like a duck quacking. Cin shot him a warning look.

“Breggle, particularly the grownup version, is excellent training for telekinesis in general, but also has applications in combat, especially for Niman. Carlin and Newton in particular might want to try it. Master Silvanus used to swear by it. In fact, in the footage he sent over, he’s manipulating all of those droids telekinetically. Fortunately, you do not need to develop nearly that level of skill to supplement your saberwork with a little telekinesis. Just be sure you don’t lose your focus on the battle at hand when you do it. If you get a chance, try Breggle again as an adult. It’s much more complicated than you remember but the skills can be very useful, especially if you find yourself disarmed.” He let that thought sink in. “Alright, off to the viewing salle. You’re going to critique each other today.”

The students filed out. Gi-Ho raised an eyebrow as Obi-Wan passed.

“What did Yoda teach you so far?”

Obi-Wan again held up his hand, his fingers indicating it was only a little. “We did, um, Stellar Dance and I tried to do the snake technique. I’ve been practicing and can do up to eight now, sometimes nine, but the clicks aren’t, well, clicking.”

“See if you can get Master Silvanus to show you. Si would do what, twenty? Twenty-five at a time?”

“I saw him do thirty once, no tethers,” Cin shook his head. “They broke the mold with Master Si.”

“Thankfully Master Yoda has someone better skilled to play with. He said we should do the Pebble Dance next time?”

“Yup, good one for practice on rocky or gravelly terrain. Make the ground unsteady underfoot. Good for knocking opponents off balance when there are too many to fight.” Gi-Ho grinned. “It also makes pretty designs on the floor.”

“Master Yoda has not mentioned combat applications, but I did wonder.”

“It makes the learning easier, but yeah, it’s very good for that. No idea why they stopped teaching it after the creche.”

“Broken windows,” Cin grumbled. “Lots of broken windows. There was a competition among some padawans and for a few years youth Breggle was banned. With only old people playing it, it never really picked up again.”

“You think the Sith play with Breggle stones, Kenobi?” Gi-Ho asked as they entered the viewing salle.

“I think they probably use knives.”

Once everyone was in the viewing salle, Master Drallig directed the students to have a seat, then called up Master Gi-Ho for a demonstration. Together the two of them went through a variety of scenarios, showing common errors and technical lapses that led to losses or injury. After the demonstrations, Gi-Ho sat down with the students and Master Drallig called them up in pairs.

The first up were Dallo and Carlin. They were of similar height and weight but had been studying different styles the previous two weeks. Master Drallig directed them to open spar at full speed. The improvement over the first day was dramatic. Dallo had learned to keep her guard up and keep her attention on the duel, and Kressa’s strength and speed had increased. The two of them danced back and forth across the salle. Dallo was the aggressor for most of the duel, but Kressa defended herself well, and was able to get the upper hand several times. Both students earned praise from Master Drallig for their improvement. The class did correctly note that Dallo needed to work on her footwork, she was having trouble changing direction when Kressa pushed back, and Kressa was actually overcompensating for her weakness on the left. Master Drallig told her to start drilling equally on both sides.

The next pairing was Newton and Kecklan. Kecklan’s Shien was more aggressive than Newton’s Niman and Kecklan pushed Newton across the salle, very comfortable at full speed. Newton almost backed out of the ring before he began pushing back, and once he found his rhythm the pair was more evenly matched. They danced back and forth, neither gaining the upper hand for several passes until Kecklan got under Newton’s guard, saber at his throat. Master Drallig called the duel to a halt, praised both students for their improvement, then called Gi-Ho down to show how Newton could have actually saved the duel, even with Kecklan’s blade way too close. The students correctly identified problem areas for both competitors. Kecklan was aggressive, but left openings, some of which Newton was able to exploit. Newton had focused on the aggressive aspects of Niman but needed to give equal time to defense. Niman had a good balance but would not work if both aspects were not learned equally.

Master Drallig sent Kecklan, Newton and Gi-Ho back to the seats then called Pho and Kenobi down to the floor. Pho grinned; they had been itching to pit themself against the former padawan who had killed a Sith. Ruval was watching with interest when he heard a grunt near the floor. Looking down he saw Master Yoda pulling himself up into the seat next to Gi-Ho to watch the proceedings. Gi-Ho smiled and offered the grandmaster a hand up.

Master Drallig looked at the two opponents. So far as he could recall, he hadn’t pitted them against each other before. Under normal circumstances Kenobi would have been a challenge for any of them but undertaking both a new form and a new saber had leveled the playing field somewhat.

“Pho, I want you to take down Kenobi. Obi-Wan, I want you to focus on defending yourself, no offense, though you can stand your ground or try to lead the match. Use your new saber.” Master Drallig nodded and backed off. Obi-Wan grimaced but pulled the new saber from his belt. Pho grinned, confident in their new skills.

Pho advanced, and Obi-Wan blocked, stepping back slightly.

“Trying Soresu he is,” Master Yoda looked on with approval, even as Kenobi’s moved were unusually choppy and graceless.

“He’s rising to the challenge well,” Gi-Ho replied. “It’s tough to make a complete one-hundred-eighty degree turn like that, but he’s committed to try and has been putting the work in.”

Ruval wondered what Kenobi had done to gain the Grandmaster’s notice. It was clear he had had it for a while.

On the floor, Pho had pushed Obi-Wan across the salle, but much slower than the previous pairs had done. They grinned as they neared the edge of the ring, glancing at the wall and another well-battered cabinet, not realizing they had made their intentions obvious. Pho lunged suddenly, trying to box Kenobi in, but Obi-Wan blocked and side-stepped, turning them around to move in the opposite direction. When they reached the middle of the ring, Obi-Wan opted to stand his ground and Pho continued to launch attacks, gradually growing frustrated that they were unable to make any headway against someone whose technique was so rough.

Master Drallig called the sparring to a halt, then questioned the class. Several students noted Pho was revealing their moves through their body language. A few identified openings in Kenobi’s defense. Master Drallig nodded at the class in approval, then turned to the combatants.

“Good work. Kenobi, keep defending, but if you find an opening, take it. Resume.”

Pho’s grinned, but quickly grew serious, focusing on the openings their classmates had pointed out. They began their attack again. The movements had calmed after the break, we more focused, but Obi-Wan had taken the critique to heart as well, and the holes in his defense narrowed. Pho soon became frustrated as their opportunities melted away, and as many who had faced relentless Soresu, that frustration soon led to mistakes. Pho began pushing harder, losing their cool as they drove Kenobi back and soon there was a gap in their defense large enough to drive a speeder through, even a speeder one was still learning to drive. Obi-Wan shifted suddenly and Pho found Kenobi’s new baby paused just over their chest, the low power singeing their tunic. With an exasperated huff they backed off, arms spread to signal the yield and saber powered down.

“Very good, both of you.” Drallig turned to Pho. “Your attacks have improved, and you started hiding your intentions better. Be aware that Form III is still the best defense against Form V, even though you both are just starting out, so if you want to rely on it, you’re going to have to drill against duelists proficient in Form III. You also need to rein in the frustration.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Kenobi, good focus on Form III, and good work on waiting for an opening to exploit. Stamina and patience are your best resources here. Stay there.” He sent Pho back into the seats, then called Ruval down.

Ruval looked over his opponent. Kenobi had sparred long enough that Pho had been noticeably sweaty, but even at this level, the Soresu moves were more mentally than physically taxing, so he really couldn’t count on the other knight to be physically exhausted.

Master Drallig looked them both over. Ruval was physically larger and more imposing than Pho. If he continued to improve, he would probably be switched over to Djem So soon. In the meantime, his focus on aggressive attack at the expense of defense was making him vulnerable. “Ruval, try to take out Kenobi. Obi-Wan, focus on defense again for this first part.” He offered no advice, knowing Kenobi well enough to be sure he had been observing his classmates throughout the course. Jinn was a hard taskmaster, but Obi-Wan had learned the lessons well. “Begin.”

Ruval advanced, pushing the Shien harder than Pho had, with more bulk and power behind the attacks. Kenobi initially fell back, gauging the strength of the blows, but only gave a little ground before stopping, making use of his stronger saber to hold off Ruval without backing down, his baby singing as the movements smoothed with each repetition. Yoda watched with great interest as the two young knights moved, each trying to get the upper hand. Obi-Wan tried to keep the holes in his defense as small as possible given his experience, and Ruval was still too new to the technique to take full advantage of them, so for now they were quite evenly matched. Ruval did not give away his intentions, but also did not think them through as well as Pho. There were noticeable gaps in the action as Ruval decided what to do, but Kenobi resisted the urge to exploit this, focusing instead on his own defense, knowing Ruval was also learning and ending this too quickly would cut that short. It took longer than it had with Pho, but Ruval also became frustrated, running through his small repertoire of new attacks quickly, and opting to just put more power behind them rather than focus on form, leaving large openings. Master Drallig called them to a halt when Obi-Wan was forced to step back under the power of the assault, Ruval breathing hard.

“Calm down, Ruval. Find your center.”

Ruval nodded, forcing himself to take controlled, measured breaths.

“Kenobi, good defense. You’re holding off well against a physically stronger opponent. Ruval, you need to work on keeping your calm. I know Kenobi is infuriating as hell, but he’s not actually trying to kill you. You’re leaving big openings in your defense.” He waved Gi-Ho down and let the students point out the flaws in both student’s techniques, before demonstrating them. He then asked the class what they were both doing correctly. The class agreed that Ruval’s technique was good when he was calm but lacking as his focus waned. Kenobi still has holes to exploit but he was minimizing his movements, holding his ground while conserving his energy.

“Do you have anything to add, Master?” Cin looked up at Yoda in the spectator seats.

“Hmm,” Yoda narrowed his eyes, making a show of thinking hard. “Good strategy you both have. Agree I do, Knight Ruval getting frustrated is. Good power in attacks, but losing form is. In normal spar, if new technique effective not, be afraid not to incorporate other moves. Learning new techniques today are, but real duels less rigid are. Also, standing ground best defense not always. Sometimes conserve energy does, but holding ground wear you down can. In aggressive attack, can conserve energy by letting self be pushed. Make adversary do work, wear them out faster can.”

Cin nodded, unsurprised his master was thinking along the same lines he was for these students. “The grandmaster has spoken. Ruval, try to keep your center. Kenobi, keep to the defensive, but if there is an opening, take it. Begin.”

Ruval squared off with Kenobi again, who backed off this time, staying cautious with Ruval’s renewed attack. Ruval kept his forms tighter, but increased the power behind the attack, gaining confidence as Kenobi fell back, but not enough to leave careless openings. As they reached the end of the ring, Obi-Wan side-stepped again. Ruval saw the movement and pivoted his attack. Obi-Wan scrambled to block and managed it, but it was a struggle. Encouraged, Ruval advanced more aggressively, pushing hard, driving Kenobi back. On this pass across the ring, Kenobi turned much earlier than he was expecting and was ready for Ruval’s attack. Ruval struggled to maintain his calm, but now he was getting tired. He couldn’t keep up the same strength of attack, so he opted to increase his speed, knowing Kenobi was also working in an unfamiliar style and that he still had trouble moving his saber as fast as he normally did. Obi-Wan continued to back off, leading Ruval in a wide circle around the salle as the latter’s confidence grew, and the speed increased again. They were moving quite fast now, faster than Ruval was accustomed to in sparring and had completed more than one circuit of the ring before Ruval’s shift into overconfidence provided an opening and with a sudden twist, Obi-Wan’s blade was at his neck.

“Halt!” Drallig called out. There was no need for anyone to get burned. “Stand down.” Both of them stepped back and doused their blades. “Ruval, see to your hilt.”

Ruval looked down at his saber hilt, checking it with the Force and was stunned to see that the end was very hot, and the polish had been blackened, indicating a low power blade had passed over the top of the hilt. On high power, that move would have destroyed the weapon.

Ruval blinked. Kenobi had taken him down _twice_.

“Very good, Ruval. You held your form an exceptionally long time against a tough opponent, utilized good tactics and stepped up to the challenge. You kept the openings small, took advantage of Kenobi’s lapses, and kept your own form tight, even at a faster tempo.”

Ruval looked suspicious, as if he suspected Master Drallig were patronizing him. “Master Drallig, he took out my saber and got under my guard.”

“Yes, well, it was only a matter of time before he’d get the hang of that new saber.” Cin shared a look with Yoda, who appeared quietly delighted. “You did very well, learned from the critique and employed good strategy. You’re ready to move on. Start learning the first Djem So katas with Gi-Ho this afternoon. Do them in parallel with Shien to keep your foundation solid. Next time you might be the one taking Kenobi out. Kenobi, what did you do wrong?”

“I lost my focus on my opponent while trying to redirect the duel and almost took a hit. My form is still too loose with too many openings and I need more practice to make the movements more natural.”

“What are you improving on?”

“My tempo and control of the new saber.”

“Master understatement you have also,” Yoda added. The class laughed.

“Alright, everyone back to the main salle for new katas. Good work today.” The class stood and filed out.

“Checking my work, Master?” Cin asked.

“Check on all Jedi I do.”

Cin raised an eyebrow.

“Visiting Si tomorrow I am. Progress report he wants.”

Cin looked unconvinced, but not upset. Gi-Ho looked amused as he followed the students.

“He was very helpful with this crop of students.” It was understood that Cin meant Kenobi specifically. “Any chance we could get Master Si more involved in the curriculum?”

Yoda sighed, thinking it over. “Needs something to do he does. Consulting good for him could be. Difficult to convince him to visit would be. Assistance he would need. Very bad hands are now. Talk with Si, talk with Ospen, if convince him you can. Could be done if willing he is, but even just comment on training very valuable could be.”

“We’re willing to take all the help we can get.” Cin looked to the door to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “Nori suggested we ask Master Jinn to consult if he is able as he recuperates. While he certainly has the talent, his attitude often makes him difficult to work with.”

“Ready knight seminar is yet?”

“We’re ready to launch next term, at least for the initial class. We expect we’ll refine it over time.”

“Run class you should. Get confident in analysis. When position strong, make Qui-Gon face demons we will. If face reality he can, better instructor he could be. Now listen not to him describe battle. Accept short-comings and mistakes he has not.”

“If he could get his head on straight, he could be a great asset,” Cin shook his head. “If not . . . I don’t want him screwing up any more young minds.”

“Let him take another padawan we will not.” Yoda paused, releasing the old frustration. “Doing better Obi-Wan is?”

“He is. He’s meeting his potential and making excellent progress. Gi-Ho wants to ask him to drill and spar with us when he’s in the Temple. We’ve known he’s very talented since he was a padawan. Jinn trained him well, but never let him think he was more than adequate. It drives him to excellence, but I don’t want to see him burn himself out.”

“Yes. Keeping eye I am on him. Concern me this does too.”

“I’d best get back to class, Master. Thank you for getting Master Si involved. He was a big help, but more importantly it was just great to talk to him again.”

“Good to hear that is. Go. Talk more we will.” Yoda followed him out the door.

“Yes, Master.”

“No duck jokes you will make.”

“Never, Master.”

Across the hall, Gi-Ho winked and quacked.

Cin entered the main salle to see the students drilling in new katas. Carlin and Newton moved together in front of the mirrors, their Niman advancing well. Carlin was moving past the shortcomings of her training well, working hard to make up for years of having only her master to spar with. Teaming her with Vos had clearly been good for her and with the workshop under her belt, she was well on her way to shoring up her skills. Dallo was working further down. Cin thought he might send her to Nori when the other master joined them tomorrow. Gi-Ho was adept at all the forms, but Nori knew from experience subtleties and variations more suited to the female form. Carlin needed a few more days, but he would send her to Nori as well.

Pho and Kecklan were mirroring each other, working together on a kata that worked the dominant hand. Having opposite sword arms meant working face to face was better than using the salle mirrors. Ruval was learning Djem So open hand katas from Gi-Ho, and in the far corner Obi-Wan was also doing open hand katas, but in Soresu. Gi-Ho had been wise to separate the saber from the form. Obi-Wan seemed to have gotten over the block with the new saber and while it would no doubt take many years before he mastered Soresu, hints of his natural grace and flow were starting to peek through.

Cin made a circuit through all of the students, answering questions, suggesting further exercises, making recommendations for masters to consult. He stopped himself from recommending to Dallo that she seek out Master Jinn, not having spoken to him in far too long. He wasn’t entirely sure the bastard _hadn’t_ sustained brain damage in the fight with the Sith given how he had been acting.

Everyone had been given their assignments by 17:00 hours and the class was dismissed. Gi-Ho left to help Nori clean up from the junior padawan class across the hall. Kressa, Dallo and Pho headed off to the showers. Kecklan and Newton headed to their quarters, not wanting to share facilities with teenage boys. Ruval finished the last run through of his first Djem So kata, then came up to Master Drallig to thank him profusely.

“You don’t need to thank me, Ruval. You earned this through hard work and putting in the effort. This class is designed to push your limits and get you to perform your best without crashing and burning. You have been doing very well, and the only competitor you need to be concerned with is yourself. “

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Everyone is starting from a different level and trying to get to a different place. My goal is to give you the best chance to get through you missions alive, hopefully in one piece. Djem So will serve you well, but you aren’t going to master it in a four-week course. I have you learn the Shien first because it’s less aggressive and more useful in most situations I expect you’ll come across. Take the time to build the foundation. Work on you own or with other knights and stop by the open clinics for a tune up or if you get stuck on something. We have to work together to keep the Jedi strong, even more so now.”

“I will, Master Drallig. See you tomorrow.” Ruval headed off to shower, giving Kressa a wave as she left the shower rooms. She smiled to see him in a much better mood after today’s class.

Cin looked up to see Kenobi finishing his last run through of the open-hand Soresu, his movements finally smooth and refined. Even with the limited repertoire of moves they were able to cover in a short course like this, he was able to make good use of them, well enough to defend himself without falling back on his Ataru. Si had been right. It would be interesting to see how he danced in a few months, not to mention if he fully mastered the form in the years to come. They would have to keep an eye on him. It was common for new knights to flounder, especially when they could no longer rely on their masters. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been easier on Kenobi if Jinn had died.

“Obi-Wan?”

He looked up immediately from where he had been sipping at his water. “Yes, Master Drallig?”

“You have fuel left in the tank?”

He seemed a bit confused. “Yes, what did you need Master Drallig?”

Class was over for the day. Cin despaired of ever getting the knight to call him by his first name, despite being involved in his training for at least eight years. Jinn was a possessive bastard, so Drallig had been caught rather flat-footed by the eighteen-year-old wunderkind fresh off probation who’s in depth training records ended abruptly at age thirteen. _That_ had led to some serious policy changes. Obi-Wan was competent, but who else might they be missing in the bureaucracy?

“An opponent for open spar.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I spent too much time talking today and I thought you might want to stretch those Ataru muscles. Soresu will serve you well, but you don’t want the skills you are field proficient in to atrophy.” He leaned in closer. “I’ll even let you use your old saber. You’re adjusting to the new one well, but I expect it will still be some time before you’ll be comfortable depending on it for missions.”

“I would be honored, Master Drallig.” He put away his water and switched out lightsabers.

Cin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Si must have had a field day with those manners.

Obi-Wan walked into the center of the salle, offered the traditional salute, then stood at attention. Cin began to move before his saber was even lit and the duel was on.

Quinlan Vos arrived at the shower rooms, reaching out in the Force to find Kressa. She had commed to say she was on her way out, but she wasn’t at her usual spot. “Kress?”

She suddenly appeared around the corner and grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him back the way she came, signaling he should be quiet. He hoped he wasn’t headed toward a spontaneous make out session, because as fun as that could be, he was starving. For _food_.

Kressa led him past the open doorway of the main salle and the sound of rapidly moving lightsabers caught his attention. He paused, then stopped dead. Kenobi was open sparring with Master Drallig and it was a sight to behold. The speed alone was frankly amazing, the strikes from both sides coming fast and hard, the two combatants pushing themselves, the Force channeling through both of them in a way that made Quinlan want to reach out and touch them, just to sense the raw energy of the scene. After a moment he became aware of a persistent tugging on his hand and he realized Kressa was trying to pull him into the observation lounge so they could watch without looking like a pair of dumbstruck initiates in the hall.

Quin closed the door quietly, then waited a moment for their eyes to adjust to the dim light before climbing up to the raised platform where the viewing windows were. “Holy crap.”

“I know.” Kressa let go of his hand and walked up ahead of him. They had sat down in the dim to watch before they realized they were not alone. At the far end of the viewing box, Master Yoda sat in the dark, watching intently.

“Um, we’re sorry to intrude, Master Yoda.”

Yoda waved a hand dismissively, not looking away from the duel. Master Drallig had delivered a Force push that drove Kenobi back several steps, but he did not fall down and after a moment stepped right back into the fight.

“Pretty good show,” Yoda commented. “Pushing him to his limits Cin is.”

The duelists swept up and down the salle several times. Cin drove Obi-Wan back, pushing aggressively, then let himself be pushed back the way they had come, letting Obi-Wan use his skills at a higher level than he could against the other students in the class. They reached the end of the ring and reversed direction again. Cin drove him back again and Yoda leaned forward to watch as Obi-Wan’s movements shifted, his style no longer expansive Ataru, nor tight Soresu either, but somewhere in between.

“Very good improvement.” Yoda’s gaze followed the duelists as they moved. “Worry about him I do. Target on back he might have.

They were all silent for a while, watching the spar. It was clear from the looks on the combatant’s faces that even though the training was deadly serious, they were both enjoying the challenge.

Eventually it had to end, and it was no surprise the win went to Master Drallig. Cin kept up a strong, aggressive attack through much of the fight and Obi-Wan’s defense eventually buckled, a hard blow pushing him to his knees, though he still kept his saber up, knowing that to drop it would spell his doom in a real battle. Cin disarmed him with a bit more force than he normally would have (Obi-Wan had spent three weeks building up muscle to handle a multi-crystal saber) then held his blade up to Obi-Wan’s chin. Obi-Wan put his hands up in surrender.

“Yield?” Cin asked, but his voice was pleased.

“Yes.” Obi-Wan flopped back on the floor, breathing hard.

Cin doused his blade then offered the young man a hand up. “Now _that_ is the Padawan Kenobi I remember.”

Obi-Wan took the hand and stood with a grunt, calling his saber hilt to him with the Force. “What do you mean?”

Cin clapped him on the shoulder as they headed to the door. “You used to enjoy sparring. I know the stakes have changed and you feel pressure because your life may depend on your skill much more so than before, but don’t be afraid to take joy in the art, Obi-Wan. You’re allowed to. It also makes the learning easier.”

“Yes, Master Drallig,” Obi-Wan looked down. “I . . . After everything that happened, on Naboo and with Master Jinn, it became more important to shore up weakness than to . . . spar socially.”

“Carlin says you spar with her and Vos?”

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“It’s improved your skills, but you might want to also start attending some of the sparring clinics. Work against a variety of opponents so you can really develop the Soresu. Talk to Gi-Ho. He’ll have some good recommendations for you that will suit your budding defense but will also be a match for your strong offense. It should help you develop balance as your skills build.”

“I will, Master Drallig.”

No, he wasn’t going to drop the manners. Apparently, he had lived with Yoda for a month before he shortened ‘Master Yoda’ to just ‘Master.’

“Thank you for the spar, Obi-Wan. See you in class tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Master Drallig.” Kenobi bowed formally. Cin could imagine Si’s eyeroll at that as they left the salle.

“Force, that was . . .” Quinlan trailed off.

“I don’t think we have strong enough expletives,” Kressa replied.

“Have some I _do_ ,” Yoda climbed off his chair and walked over to the recording system, downloading footage of the session. “Teach you I could.”

Quin snorted. “No, thank you, Master Dragon Breath. I already get into enough trouble for my language around the initiates.”

The look on Kressa’s face was priceless. “Quin, that’s Master _Yoda_.”

Yoda barked a laugh. “Work in Outer Rim you do. Excellent swear words have there they do.” The small master opted to levitate himself down the stairs rather than try to navigate them in the dark. “Pick them up there if too old I am to learn from.”

“He’s joking with us,” Quin whispered. “He does that.”

Kressa still looked doubtful.

Yoda reached out with the Force, ensuring Obi-Wan had left before he exited to the hall, walking toward Drallig’s office. Kressa and Quin slipped after him, heading toward the commissary.

“Maybe _I_ should take this class,” Quin wondered aloud.

“He doesn’t spar like that in class,” Kressa shook his head. “Sheesh, Quin, he can beat the crap out of all of us. Even Ruval and Pho.”

“I told you, he was Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan.” Quin thought over master Drallig’s comments. “Maybe he’s finally moving on from whatever happened.”

Kressa noted his hopeful tone. “Oh Force. You want him _bad_ , don’t you?”

Quin snorted, not denying it. “So do _you_. You know I find good swordmanship sexy.”

Kressa sighed as they got into the lift. “Did we ever get an answer on the fundamental question? Gay, straight, bi or taken?”

“I haven’t,” Quin shrugged. “My guess is he’s just not looking.”

“I asked Rouge Organa.”

“You _what_?”

Kressa giggled. “He’s her illegitimate cousin. I figured she’d know.”

“Little Bail told me the cousin part. You really asked her _that_?”

“It was a very girly party and I had no gossip anyone cared about.” She shrugged. “Rouge said she really didn’t know, but he used to talk a little about a girl named Satine.”

“Girlfriend then?”

“She wasn’t sure. Friend at least, maybe a crush. Satine wasn’t a Jedi so Rouge thought she was off limits. He also might have been too young for S-training. It was hard to tell from what Rouge remembered.”

“No other details?”

“No. She did ask if I knew why he stopped talking about Master Jinn and who Master Yoda was.”

Qui grinned, remembering the cricket incident. “Maybe Bant knows.”

“There is no nice way to ask, is there?”

“I’m not an etiquette expert Kress, but I’m guessing no. At least as Jedi if we guess wrong, he probably won’t be offended.” Despite the monastic roots and image, Jedi were surprisingly liberal in their acceptance of alternative sexual practices even while prohibiting attachment.

“We should have copied the footage. You could have added it to your collection of saber porn.”

“I do _not_ have a collection of saber porn.”

“Yes, you _do_. You just call it ‘studying’ and follow it with very enthusiastic ‘study breaks.’ I’m your bed buddy, I know the pattern.”

“It was admittedly very . . . memorable.”

They entered the commissary. “I knew you’d enjoy that.” She grabbed a tray. “Master Drallig was also surprisingly attractive.” Usually Kressa’s impression of the Battlemaster ranged from intimidating to dour.

“He was dancing, and the Force was flowing through him like a river. Even the crustiest master can be hot when they are that immersed in the Force. When it’s a virile young knight like Kenobi,” he trailed off.

Kressa laughed as she picked up her food. “Maybe you can ask your buddy Master Yoda for a copy. But I think we got more out of seeing it live.”

Quin made a pleased humming sound in agreement.

“Oh yeah, you want him bad now. Come on over if the saber porn isn’t enough for you tonight.” She looked down at his empty tray. “Food first, Quin. Jerk off later.”

Quin blushed, looking around, but the only person who had seemed to notice was the older woman dishing out food behind the counter who gave him a knowing look. Shaking his head, Quin rejoined the end of the line as Kress scouted out a table.

“Food first, right.” He picked up an entrée and an extra serving of protein, knowing Kressa was probably right about his activities this evening. When he reached the table Kress grinned at him, then waved at someone behind him. He turned to see a freshly washed Knight Kenobi waving back as he entered the commissary. Even at this distance he could tell the Force was still thrumming through his body. Quin flexed his hands in their gloves, a reminder to _not touch_.

He _really_ wanted to touch.

Kressa smirked, knowing he was just shading into uncomfortable, worried his attraction and arousal might become obvious.

“Maybe he’s into threesomes,” Kressa offered.

Quin gently knocked his knee into hers under the table. She was almost as turned on as he was.

“Please tell me you’re not going to ask him that,” he pleaded.

She laughed at him, more delighted at his mood than mocking him. They needed a little spice sometimes, even if they never actually acted out the fantasy.

“I think we have to ask his friends. Unless you want to ask, what did you call him, ‘Master Dragon Breath?’”

Quin doubled over laughing, the sheer social horror of the idea cooling his ardor enough to bring him back to his comfort zone. He was still laughing when a very tired looking Obi-Wan joined them at the table. He didn’t touch.

But he wanted to.

* * *

He fell against the bed pillows with a much louder groan than he had anticipated, the Force still singing in his nerves, energizing him even as his orgasm obliterated the small pains and tensions of the flesh.

“Why did we stop doing this again?”

“Not in mood you were. Just washed hair you did. Clean sheets on bed, not make sister make bed again.” Yoda cracked one eye open to look up at him. “Make bed I _still can_ , Padawan.”

“That’s not all you can still do.”

“Heh,” Yoda stretched, then called over the canister of bathing wipes Si had replaced the week before. The previous wipes had been so old, they had crackled when he had opened the container. _Dry spell indeed._

“I _can_ clean myself, you know,” Si looked on, amused, as Yoda cleaned off his chest, belly and groin, then pulled a clean wipe to wash his own body. Scaled for use in sponge baths, the wipe was very nearly towel-sized for the tiny master.

“Let master take care of you, you will. How hands are?”

Si held his hand up to his face. The now constant tremor was still there, but it had lessened considerably. “Not terrible.”

Yoda stretched again, then kicked him gently on the thigh. “Go. Play. Old master take nap will.”

Amused to be kicked out of his own bed, Si stood up and slipped into his silk robe, put on his spectacles, then sat in a chair with an art pad and charcoal. He glanced around the room for inspiration, before settling on Yoda, who had laid back down on his stomach, chin resting on his crossed arms. He began to sketch quickly, knowing his hands would soon be shaking too much to continue.

Yoda noticed the attention. “Drawing me you are?”

“You’re well posed and available.”

“Naked I am.”

“That’s very acceptable in art, Master.”

“Show Brother Ospen not. See me naked before retirement he does not need.”

Si snorted. “I don’t tend to show off my post-sex art, Master.”

“Good. Ready for Grandmaster porn galaxy is not.”

“ _Erotica_ , Master,” Si corrected. “In my will it says to put this pad under my body before the pyre is lit. You’re welcome to keep it of course, but hopefully that will prevent any trauma after I’m gone.” He sketched in the relaxed curve of Yoda’s ears, the graceful lines of the master in repose. “You’re surprisingly well-muscled, given your age.”

“Pot, kettle meet.”

“Old habits and P.T.” He began putting in some shading. It was getting more difficult to control the shaking. “I miss painting.”

“Abstract you could do.”

“I tried. It wasn’t satisfying.”

“Only one solution,” Yoda yawned before returning to position, his expression sleepy and sated. “More sex you must have.”

Si loosened his control a bit, using the shaking to create a steady, repetitive movement, adding texture to the sketch.

“At my age? They aren’t exactly lining up outside my room, Master.”

“Heh, still attractive you are. Admirers you have.”

Si was about to protest this, but stopped, knowing his master read people better than he did, but also knowing the little toad might be lying to boost his ego. “If you are referring to some lovelorn novice who is never going to take vows, I’ll smack you.” He pushed his control a little harder, putting the last touches on the sketch as the shaking became more pronounced.

“Heh, not-secret admirer you have. Novice not. Pay attention. Figure out you will.”

He struggled a bit to date the sketch, then laid it aside. He would give it a coat of adhesive later, after he put some clothes on.

“Done you are?” Yoda seemed genuinely curious.

Carefully he held up the sketch.

“More wrinkles I have, flatter me you do.”

“We all have more wrinkles, Master.” He set the art pad and spectacles aside, washed the charcoal from his hands, slipped out of his robe and got back into bed. Yoda moved to cuddle into his chest, enjoying the warmth as Si covered them both with a sheet.

“Feel better you do?”

Si lifted his head to press a kiss to the ridges over Yoda’s eyes. “I’m getting there. Much less depressed. Shockingly I’m still old as dirt.” He ran a shaky hand along Yoda’s forearm which was reaching across his chest.

“Want more you do?”

“No, I’m good. You?” Si was quite sure _his_ penis had clocked out for the rest of the day.

“Good I am. Rest like this we can?”

“Take your nap, Master. I’ll wake you up before dinner hour.”

Yoda yawned again. “Visit again in two weeks I should?”

“Yes. We can even play Breggle.”

“Spoil me you _do_ , Padawan.” After a moment his breathing slowed, signaling he had dropped off into sleep.

Si sighed, living in the moment. Force only knew how many more he had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it went there. Hope it didn't scare you away.
> 
> Any thoughts about how the students are shaping up or the saber duel?


	9. Part IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is not quite right with Obi-Wan, the neighborhood group is a great team, Quinlan knows who to go to for help, Master Yoda is an anxious mother hen, Eller is great in a crisis, Brother Ospen gets a surprise and the Sleeping Dragon leaves the South Terrace with a little help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from Fun's _Carry On_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7yCLn-O-Y0
> 
>  **WARNING** : (warnings are a spoiler, see notes at end for chapter-specific warning).

_If you're lost and alone_

_Or you're sinking like a stone._

_Carry on._

_May your past be the sound_

_Of your feet upon the ground._

_Carry on._

\--Jeffrey Bhasker, Nathaniel Joseph Ruess, Andrew Dost, Jack Micheal Antonoff, “Carry On.”

The knock on the door seemed painfully loud and intrusive, but when Quin looked at the chrono it was quite a reasonable hour in the morning. He reached out with the Force, debating whether he should pretend he wasn’t home, but both the Living and the Unifying Force rushed in with an emphatic _no_ that had him scrambling out of bed and into his bathrobe before whoever was at the door knocked again.

The second knock came just as he got to the door, and he could feel reined-in anxiety coming from the other side. He opened the door to find Jitters standing there, pale and dressed in greased-stained coveralls, looking not at him, but at something down the hall. Quin was just about to ask what the matter was when he felt a very noticeable wrongness in the Force. Whatever this was that had Jitters at his door, it was _not_ a false alarm this time.

“Kriff, what’s the matter?”

Jitters turned back, surprised to see him at the door. “You’re friends with Kenobi, right?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Quin kept his voice quiet.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s been in the meditation alcove all night and whatever it is, it’s . . .”

Quin tried to sense more about the wrongness that was definitely coming from the alcove. It wasn't good, whatever it was. “All night?” Quin leaned into the hall, trying to get a better sense of what was wrong.

“Yeah, I, um, pulled an all-nighter working on a design problem and kept getting up to stretch my legs. He’s been there since 22:00 yesterday at least, and . . . whatever he’s doing isn’t working. If he were a padawan I’d call his master, but I don’t even know who his master is, and . . .”

“Yeah,” Quin looked down at himself. “Give me five minutes.”

He closed the door, had the world’s fastest sonic shower, then dashed into his bedroom naked to get some clothes on, grateful he didn’t have to do anything fancy to his hair.

“What’s wrong?” Kressa had been barely awake when he got up to get the door, but his concern and haste had alerted her.

“That was Jitters. Obi-Wan’s been in the alcove all night and there’s something wrong.”

“Kriff,” she sat up immediately. “He just got in last night off a really bad mission. He looked like shit but said he just needed sleep.” She got up and went to the fresher. “Go. I’ll be right there.”

Quin stepped out into the hall, then followed Jitters to the alcove, not really knowing what to expect. The Jedi path was a hard one, and people sometimes got a little broken along the way. This could be a lot of things: despair, suicidal ideation, delirium, illness, a Force trance, a brush with Darkness, a psychotic break. Hell, he could have just fallen asleep like that, but the impressions he was getting from the Force indicated it wasn’t going to be that simple.

He turned the corner to seen Kani, the vacuuming Togruta, peering into the alcove. She looked very relieved when she saw Quinlan approaching.

“I don’t know how long he’s been there,” she whispered. “But he didn’t respond when I spoke to him.”

“Obi-Wan?” Quin called out cautiously, hand on his saber hilt, just in case Kenobi was completely out of his gourd and attacked him. If he’d gone rogue, he could probably take quite a few of them out before he was stopped.

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, but now that Quin was close, he could feel that Obi-Wan was neither enraged nor Dark, but there did seem to be some darkness clinging to him, with a hint of hurt or injury. Quin took a step closer, but that felt very wrong and he immediately retreated.

Kani looked up at him. “You feel it too. What are we supposed to do?”

Kress came up behind him, shrugging into a jacket and clapped a hand over her mouth when she arrived.

“I think this is beyond our abilities, guys,” Quin said at last. “I think we need help.”

Kressa looked them over. “Should we call Security? Or the healers?” Obviously Kressa had the same concerns Quin had over a possibly psychotic Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“I think he needs healers, Kress.” Quin leaned into the alcove, feeling out the situation again, ungloved hand outstretched as close as he dared. “Yeah, healers. But let them make the call on Security.”

“Right,” Kressa looked very worried. “I can go call if you guys stay here?”

Kani and Jitters nodded.

“Is there anyone else we can call?” Kani asked. “Maybe his master is in Temple?”

Jitters looked to Quin, having run into a brick wall on that already.

“No, don’t call his master,” Quin peered in at Obi-Wan who was still sitting in the dim room, unmoving. “They don’t speak to each other.” He frowned. “I think I know who to go to instead. I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going?” Kani asked, nervous about all of Obi-Wan’s closer friends leaving.

“I’ve got to go in person,” Quin called as he got to the lift. “I don’t have his comm code.”

Quinlan punched in the emergency code as soon as he hit the lift, fairly certain he would not get in trouble if he was questioned about it later. He hit the bottom of the Knight’s Tower in record time and dashed as fast as he could to the Council Tower, grumbling when the lift seemed to take forever to arrive and then even longer to get to the Petitioner’s level. Several Jedi his own age gave him disapproving looks, but something in his Force presence must have indicated the seriousness of the situation, because several masters moved over and waved him ahead. He skipped past the reception desk, he did not need to petition the Council, and turned to the office suite on the left where the personal assistants to the Council members worked. The staff were a mix of Jedi and civilian administrative assistants. There was always someone on duty here, even in the middle of the night, and at least one of the assistants on duty had to be a Jedi.

He entered the room, uncertain who he should speak with. The Jedi on duty beckoned him over, concerned.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I need to get a message to Master Yoda. It’s not a Council issue.”

The Jedi frowned at him, but after a moment he realized the assistant was feeling him in the Force.

“Take a seat right there,” he pointed to a visitor’s chair in front of a large desk. “Master Yoda is in a Council meeting, and his schedule is locked down today, but he shares an assistant with Master Windu and if it’s important, Eller can get the message to him.”

“Thank you,” Quinlan sat down in the chair and tried not to fidget. After a few minutes an obviously civilian woman walked in, spoke briefly to the aide, then came over to the large desk, sitting behind it before addressing Quinlan.

“Can I help you, Knight?” She was not particularly tall, and a little more solidly built than the stereotypical female assistant, but she was well-dressed, well-groomed, and wore sober colors that blended well with the Jedi cream and brown. She wasn’t a Jedi or Force sensitive, but she felt . . . formidable.

“I need to get a message to Master Yoda, but it’s not a Council thing.”

Eller blinked, waiting for more, clearly having heard all this from the aide. “Master Yoda’s schedule is very tight today, but if you can tell me what this is about, I might be able to help you.”

Quinlan was tempted to just thank her and go back the way he came, this woman was assistant to the grandmaster and the head of the whole order for Force’s sake, he shouldn’t be bothering her, much less the grandmaster, but . . . _no_. She was the gatekeeper. It was his job to get help. She was the one to decide if it was worth bothering Yoda about.

“Um, I know Master Yoda is close with Knight Kenobi and—”

She cut him off, immediately standing up. “Follow me.” She led him into a small conference room and shut the door. “What’s wrong with Kenobi?”

Quinlan wondered if maybe she was stronger in the Force than he thought.

“We _don’t know_. He’s been sitting in the dark all night and he’s not responding to people. We think he’s having some sort of breakdown. We called the healers, but,” he paused. “The only person I know he’s close to is Master Yoda, so . . . I thought he should know?”

“You’re right. He’ll want to know. When did you call the healers?” She was reaching into a cabinet and pulled out a portable data-comm, which she handed to Quinlan before moving toward the door.

“Um, ten minutes ago? Kress went to make the call and I came here.”

She led him back into the office, then stopped at her desk to switch out her dress shoes for a pair more suited for walking. “Good, follow me.” She led him to another door which led to a narrow hallway. “You were right to come here directly. Master Yoda’s schedule is closed because he was worried about Obi-Wan and wanted to go check on him after the Council session. He didn’t look right last night and he didn’t answer when Master Yoda commed this morning.” She stopped at a door at the end of the hall with a small window in it. “Stay here.” She slipped through the door and Quin peeked through to watch, releasing anxiety into the Force.

To his surprise, the window looked into the Council chamber, apparently this was a staff entrance. Eller quietly walked around the perimeter of the room, ignored by the Councilors, until she walked up behind Master Yoda’s small chair, crouching until she had his attention. The effect was immediate. Yoda looked up to see Quin’s face in the window, then nodded at Eller. Quinlan could hear nothing but saw Master Windu hold up an index finger to whoever was currently speaking with the Council; he shared a look with Master Yoda, then nodded back for the proceedings to continue. Yoda quietly got up from his chair and followed Eller back to the door. Quinlan wondered how much shit he was in for interrupting a Jedi Council meeting.

As soon as the door was closer, Yoda turned to him. “Happened what has?”

“We don’t know, Master. He wasn’t answering us and he felt very wrong in the Force.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“Did the right thing you did,” he said as Eller knelt down and let Yoda climb up to her shoulders. “Where now is he?”

“He’s in the Knight’s Tower on our floor.”

Eller immediately began walking towards the lift, no questions asked. As she passed the Jedi Quin had talked to, she made a hand signal to indicate she and Yoda would be out.

“Feels wrong how does?” Yoda asked as they entered the staff lift and Eller overrode the controls to get them down faster.

“I can’t describe it, it was just . . . wrong as soon as I felt it. Not the Dark Side, but some, something is off. And he might be injured.”

They reached the Visitor’s Hall. Eller detoured slightly and grabbed Master Yoda’s hover chair as they passed, which she also shoved at Quinlan to carry. “You might need that, Master.”

“Good thinking that is,” he agreed.

She continued down the way Vos had come, moving surprisingly fast for a relatively small woman. Quin was starting to suspect that despite her job being administrative in nature, she probably had quite a bit of muscle under her dress clothes. They quickly made it back to the Knight’s Tower, where she immediately overrode the elevators again and then looked to Quin and Yoda for the floor number. Checking the chrono, the Kiffar was stunned that less than twenty minutes had elapsed. It sure felt like longer.

They arrived at the floor to see two healers standing in the foyer, first responder gear at the ready. The hall was deadly silent, but several of their neighbors were standing around, looking nervous. Jitters’ eyes widened and Kani came over, more relieved than surprised at the grandmaster’s presence.

“There’s a healer with him now, they got him talking a little. They think he’s a little delirious and they don’t want to freak him out.”

Yoda nodded, then tapped Eller’s shoulder to be let down. She knelt to let him climb down, then stood back with the others. No one questioned the grandmaster’s decision to walk closer and peer into the room.

“The healers got here fast,” Quin whispered as he came up behind Kressa, offering a half hug.

“The one in there came before I finished the call. Said something about Obi-Wan missing an appointment and was looking for him.”

“I think it’s his therapist,” Jitters whispered.

“Why?” Kani asked.

“Because he’s also _my_ therapist,” Jitters shrugged. “He’s not supposed to tell us if Kenobi is his patient.”

Yoda reached the doorway to the alcove and peered inside, wincing as he felt the very _wrong_ feeling Vos had mentioned, much more apparent now than the vague misgivings he had felt at the Council meeting the night before.

Obi-Wan was kneeling as if in meditation, but his hair was tangled and messy as if he had been running his hands through it or pulling on it, and he was trembling slightly. Vygor was crouched in front of him, speaking softly and Obi-Wan was slow to respond, radiating distress and confusion. Vygor looked up and caught Yoda’s eyes, waving him over. The tiny master cautiously stepped into the dim. It disturbed him that Obi-Wan didn’t seem to notice.

“Obi-Wan,” Vygor’s voice was very soft and gentle, with not a little Force manipulation behind it. He did not generally mind trick his patients, that was unethical, but he certainly used his talents to calm them down or keep them calm if the situation warranted. “Master Yoda is here.”

“He is?” Obi-Wan sounded very confused, his voice quiet.

Yoda stepped up next to Vygor, feeling Obi-Wan with the Force. “Why sitting alone in dark you are, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan shuddered, his hands going to his temples, fingers clutching at his hair. “I can’t sleep, Master. I keep trying and I can’t. I tried to meditate, and I can’t find my center, and Healer Vygor said I missed my appointment and I don’t know how that happened.” He sounded slightly hysterical.

“Alright it will be,” Yoda crept closer, reaching out a clawed hand. “Fix it, we can. Angry Healer Vygor is not. Worried about you he is.” The tiny master continued to hold his hand out, waiting patiently for Obi-Wan to grasp it.

“I don’t understand, it was supposed to be tomorrow . . .” Obi-Wan’s voice was even more confused, but he finally seemed to realize Yoda was reaching for him and he moved to grasp the little master’s hand. 

“Obi-Wan,” Yoda’s voice was gentle. “Fever you have.” He pinched the knight’s skin to check the turgor. “Dehydrated you are.” Obi-Wan didn’t answer.

Vygor leaned down to whisper in Yoda’s ear. “I think this is a physiological issue, not a psychotic break. He may have just lost track of time trying to meditate. He’s more confused than delusional, but there is probably some psychological issue also at play. He kept talking about releasing anxiety and not being able to eat or sleep.”

Yoda nodded. “Bad mission had. Infection he has. Not sure where. Was growing yesterday but realize then I did not.”

He gestured with his head that Vygor should move behind the distressed knight. “Rest he must.” Vygor backed off, then moved to crouch behind the young man, hoping like hell that Yoda didn’t expect him to stop the young warrior if he decided to make a break for it. Yoda looked him in the eye a moment, confirming the position, before he turned back to Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan?” Yoda tugged on the knight’s hand to draw his attention. “Sleep you need, my not quite padawan.”

“I _tried_ , Master. I _tried._ But I couldn’t _do_.”

“Yes, help you need. No shame there is in needing help. Sick you are. Healers you need, and rest.”

“I really want to sleep, Master.” He sounded very distressed. “I wanted to be rested for my appointment.”

“Yes, sleep you need,” Yoda tugged gently, getting the young knight to lean down until the tiny master could place his other hand on Obi-Wan’s forehead. “Rest now. No bad dreams, just sleep.” There was a pulse of Force energy and Obi-Wan suddenly sat bolt upright with a grunt before his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed backward into Vygor’s arms. The healer had not been expecting this and fell back on his rear, trying to keep hold of the suddenly limp knight in his arms. 

“Kriff,” he uncharacteristically swore. “He’s heavy as hell.”

“All muscle,” Yoda replied, laying his hands on the young man, trying to find the root of the problem. “Send in other healers you can, wake up he will not.”

“Help?” Vygor called, frowning as he noted how sunken in Obi-Wan eyes were. “We need an I.V. I think. He’s out, it’s safe.”

The medical healers moved in silently, checking his vitals while Yoda finished his own exam.

“Problem in stomach there is,” Yoda stepped back. “Infection there I think.”

One of the healers reached out, feeling the patient’s abdomen, starting low, checking the appendix first. “What part of the stomach?”

“Not belly,” Yoda took her hand and moved it higher. “Not guts. _Stomach_. Where food goes.”

“Oh,” she seemed very surprised. “Yeah, that’s the stomach.” She looked the patient over. “We better move him to the Healer’s Hall.” She looked to Vygor. “Do you think he’ll need a bed in Psych?”

Vygor shook his head awkwardly, still half-crushed under the patient. “I think it’s mostly illness. He might need a therapy session later, but his physical health is the bigger issue here.”

“Convalesce at home can he?” Yoda asked. “Live on this floor he does.”

The healer gave Yoda a doubtful look.

“He needs to rest,” Vygor was still pinned under the knight. “If he can be treated at home that will probably help soothe the anxiety.”

The healer sighed, not disagreeing, but concerned with logistics. “He needs to be supervised, at least until he wakes up and is coherent.” She looked at the available staff. Frankly they had expected a longer standoff with a possibly delusional knight, so the stretcher hadn’t arrived yet. “Let’s get him out of the hall and see what we’re dealing with. If he can be treated at home and you can set up a vigil, we’ll do that. Right now, we have a Kelloovian flu outbreak in the Healer’s Ward, so he’s probably better off at home anyway. Can you get him up?”

“No.” Healer Vygor was bending back, getting closer to the floor.

“Levitate him I can,” Yoda replied. “But open door first must.”

“Can you get in his room?” the healer asked.

“Access I have.”

“Save your energy for the healing, Master. We have some strapping, young bystanders.” She stepped into the hall, looking for a volunteer. Another healer had drawn blood and was running tests. Yoda picked up a limp hand, offering comfort.

The healer came back with Knight Vos who had put on a robe and was flipping up the hood to minimize physical contact.

“Yeah, I can carry him.”

Vygor moved to try to at least attempt to support Obi-Wan’s shoulders, assuming the Kiffar would take his legs but Quinlan only leaned down, pulled one arm over his head and in one smooth motion stood and lifted the unconscious knight in a rescue carry.

“He’s lost weight,” he told the healer.

Vygor took a few deep breaths, no longer half-smothered. Yoda silently led the way down the hall, past the small crowd of nervous young knights and into Obi-Wan’s apartment, walking directly to the refresher, laying clean towels on the floor. Quinlan followed, laying his friend down, then backing off and letting the healers do their work. Healer Vygor stumbled in after them and got a glass of water before sitting on the armchair to wait until he was called. Yoda stayed in the refresher, which was probably against some regulation, but no one was going to argue.

Obi-Wan was still wearing his mission clothes and sonics had only cleaned so much. His robes, tunics and pants were stained with dried mud, sweat and blood, the latter of which may not have been his. Kressa came in and closed the door behind her, then sat with Quin on the couch, waiting. Quinlan noticed that both of Obi-Wan’s lightsabers were filthy from whatever hellhole he had had to climb out of and were sitting on his worktable, and his comm was on the caff table, as if he had expected to come back after a short meditation. Apparently, there were no plans to hurt himself or others.

Master Yoda came to the fresher door, and Kressa got up to see what he needed.

“Think can treat at home they do. Find sleep clothes you can?”

“Okay,” Kressa walked into the bedroom, feeling awkward, as if she were invading Obi-Wan’s privacy, but wanting to help. She centered herself, letting the Force guide her so she wouldn’t have to open every drawer. She quickly found some loose pajamas, clean socks and underwear. There was nothing scandalous in the sock drawer, but one corner held a pair of simple cuff links she had seen him wear on Alderaan and his padawan braid. She carried the clothes back to the fresher and passed them off to Master Yoda before returning to the couch.

At some point Eller had been let in and was talking quietly with Vygor and Quinlan, drafting the necessary messages if Master Yoda did opt to hold a vigil, but not sending them until the decision was made. The room was very quiet, Quin was checking his schedule for the next few days, and Kressa was mentally tallying how many of their neighbors might be willing to take a shift when a rush of shock and distress came from the fresher. Vygor immediately got up and went in, but the only sounds seemed to be coming from the healers. Obi-Wan was still down for the count.

“Poor boy,” Master Yoda’s voice was very quiet, very distressed. “Hurt you they did.”

Kressa and Quin looked at each other, wondering if they should stay or go, but before they could decide Vygor came back out, gently herding Yoda toward the couch, and lifting him up onto it as if he were a small child. Eller went into the kitchen and came back with water for everyone, and after a few minutes the healers closed the fresher door.

“Thank you I do.” Yoda looked up at Kressa and Quinlan. “Good friends to him you are. Take good care of him you did.” He looked at Vygor, grief on his face. “Tell us he did not. Leave him alone I would not have.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Master,” Vygor sighed. “It may not be as bad as you think.” Vygor’s voice grew quiet. “He said he was having anxiety, not trauma.”

“Told you he would have?” Yoda seemed to be trying to convince himself.

“Yes, I think he would.”

One of the healers stepped out of the fresher. “Is one of you his MNOK?” Vygor gave Yoda a gentle pat on the hand and walked back to consult with the healers. Yoda’s gaze never left the fresher door, even as Eller came over and tried to get him to drink some water.

Eventually the door opened and Vygor and the head healer came out.

“Master Vygor says you’re his LNOK and I can speak freely to you.”

Yoda nodded. She looked over the rest of the crowd, but Vygor nodded his consent, so she continued.

“Good news first. He was not sexually assaulted.”

Yoda sagged with relief. “All bruised he was.”

“Yes, they _tried_ , he was definitely held down, but we don’t think they got past his clothes. There’s no internal injuries and based on the blood spatter and, um” the healer looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Dried vitreous humor on his robe, I’d guess his attacker is going to think twice before trying _that_ again.” She sighed. “Now the bad news. He’s got bruises all over, we think he was stoned by the locals while trying to flee, but fortunately he protected his head. No brain injury. He also has the worst Force-damned case of gastritis I’ve ever seen, which is why he was throwing up the past three days. We had the ground crew pull the logs on his last transport, and he’s been puking his guts up. The first aid kit shows he’s been treating with anti-nausea meds and he tried a mild sedative, an antibiotic and an antiviral, but none of those helped. His logs also show he thought the symptoms were due to anxiety, which given the history makes sense, but no. He got a nasty infection, probably swallowed some dank water without realizing it, got a local bug. We have him on a different drug and it’s working. The vomiting caused the dehydration and combined with the insomnia, which he also attributed to anxiety, caused the delirium. He should be much better after he wakes up if we can get his electrolytes in line.”

“Why not sleeping?” Yoda asked. “Exhausted he was, but had to push him into it I did.”

“It might have killed him,” the healer looked concerned. “It was probably something he could sense in the Force.”

“What mean you?”

“The bacteria stayed contained to his stomach. This strain is particularly nasty if it takes hold. The flight logs show he was restless. Never laid down. If he had, he could have refluxed into his esophagus. One night wouldn’t have been so risky, but three? It could have spread into his blood and caused sepsis or gotten into his lungs as pneumonia. The Force was probably telling him not to lay down and sleep, but he couldn’t figure out why. You said his L/U balance is toward the U?”

“Very.”

“Yeah, we’ve seen that before. It can drive Jedi to very odd behavior to keep them alive whereas someone with a higher L could just use the Force to stop the reflux or kill the pathogen or more importantly figure out it _was_ a pathogen. Bad mission, nausea and insomnia adds up to anxiety if you can’t sense the pathogen and the antibiotic failed. He must be very attuned to the Force, even if he ended up delirious. I’ve had patients come in with these types of infections who think it’s just a stomach bug and they’re already in septic shock. He needs to work on his L, but you’d know more about that than me.”

“Stay home he can?”

“If you can get enough volunteers, yes. We put in an I.V, coated his stomach and put in a catheter so he can just sleep. If his stomach is less inflamed in a few hours, we’ll put in a nasogastric tube so he can get some nutrition. We’ll send some healers to check in on him every few hours and to monitor the tubing, but he can stay home in his own bed. He should sleep at least 18-24 hours.”

“Stay with him I can.” Yoda’s relief was palpable. Eller looked as if she wanted to protest. 

“Not for twenty-four hours you won’t. And he’ll still need check ins after he wakes up.” The healer crossed her arms and glared down at the grandmaster. “I don’t want you in the Healer’s Hall next.”

“We can help,” Kressa spoke up. “We can ask the neighbors.”

“Let us know if you can’t. We can always move him to one of the wards, especially overnight, when it’s quiet.” She looked at Quinlan. “Think you can move him again?”

“Is he contagious?” Eller asked, ever practical.

“Not unless you’re planning to tongue kiss him. The antibiotic is working and the infection was contained. The rest of the pathogen should clear in a few hours, but it’s not a strain that normally affects humans, so he must have gotten a mouthful of water or mud. Maybe there was a spray?”

“Hid in swamp he said. Rain also.”

“That will do it.” The healer walked back to the fresher, indicating Quin should follow.

Obi-Wan had been wiped down and dressed for bed. A bag of fluids was hooked up to his arm and was hanging from the fresher wall.

“I always wondered what those weird hooks in the fresher were for.”

“Convalescing.” She stood by Obi-Wan’s feet and indicated Quinlan should take the shoulders. “Let’s get him in to bed.” Together they lifted the limp knight. The second healer used the Force to support his head and carried the I.V. bag. Obi-Wan’s pajama shirt rode up, revealing bruises all over his torso and hips. Quinlan winced, understanding instantly why Yoda had been so upset. They might not have raped him, but someone had certainly tried.

“Vitreous humor on his robe?”

The healer grimaced. “And blood, not his. We think he got a hand free and elbowed someone behind him. Probably broke the nose too.” They got into the bedroom and reached the bed. Quin realized he’d never seen Obi-Wan’s bedroom before and it was even more spare and austere than he had imagined. The second healer turned down the covers on the narrow bed and hung the fluid bag from a hook on the bedframe (again, so _that’s_ what those hooks were for) and together with the head healer, they lowered Obi-Wan onto the bed. The healers began checking his vitals again. Quin moved to stand up, inadvertently putting his hand down on the mattress. He normally wouldn’t have done it, but it had been a hell of a morning and he as more concerned about his friend’s health than snooping on him.

The impressions he got off the bed stunned him. The bed was relatively new, he was not surprised it had arrived when Obi-Wan had moved in along with most of his furniture. What was surprising was that other than Obi-Wan and now the healers, no one else had ever touched this bed. It had never been shared with a lover. It didn’t even give an impression of solitary passions. It was exclusively for sleeping, and Quin had never felt a bed like this belonging to a young adult, even among Jedi. He was starting to suspect it might more than a case of Obi-Wan simply not looking for companionship. Embarrassed by his unintentional revelation, Quin backed off and when one of the healers pulled out a collection bag for the urinary catheter he beat a hasty retreat.

Yoda, Eller and Vygor were in deep consultation on the couch and Kressa was coming back in with Kani, the latter of whom was holding the traditional (though now electric) lanterns that indicated a vigil was taking place to encourage peace and quiet on the floor.

“What color should we use?” Kani asked. The lantern’s hue signaled condition and outlook from mild to serious to terminal.

“Yellow?” Vygor suggested, the setting for basic illness.

“Warm yellow,” Yoda recommended. “Needs quiet now. Tomorrow will be yellow or green.”

“Yes, Master Yoda.” She adjusted the lamps, then got up to put one in the niche outside Obi-Wan’s door and the other in the elevator lobby.

Eller came over and showed Master Yoda the schedule she and Vygor had come up with. “Vygor already made arrangements for in home checks every two hours, and for that to go all night long and into tomorrow.” She frowned. “We don’t have a lot of coverage yet. Vygor has to leave and see if he can make up missed appointments, Vos and Carlin can cover some of the times this evening, and I can stay here with you in the early afternoon, but we’re probably going to have to move him to the ward overnight.”

“Stay overnight I can.”

Vygor opened his mouth to protest, but Eller beat him to it.

“Oh, _hell_ no, Master. Hell. No. You are not staying up all night because Kenobi will be more comfortable at home. _He_ would not want you to do that. Now, I’ve cleared your schedule as much as I can. I arranged substitute instructors for your classes the rest of the week.” She held up a hand when Yoda tried to protest. “The. Whole. Week. You can always show up to your own class later if it works out. Master Windu was hoping you could make the evening discussion of that issue I’m not supposed to know about. If we can’t find anyone else, I can stay late and cover you here.”

Kani came back in and cautiously approached the grandmaster. “Master Yoda, some of the knights are asking how they can help.”

Yoda nodded. “Private he is, but help we will need.”

Eller scooted closer to Yoda on the couch to make room for Kani. “You sit by me and we’ll make a list and people can volunteer to do what works for them. Right now, we may need a few night owls for the overnight shift.” She pointed her stylus at Yoda. “ _He’s_ not supposed to pull all nighters.”

“Nap later I can take.”

Eller gave Kani a conspiratorial look. “He’s like a damn teenager sometimes.” She looked back at Yoda. “And don’t think I don’t know you’ve been doing that Jedi healing Force stuff. The healers are _here_. Let them do their _job_.

Kani bit her lip to keep from smiling. Yoda looked rebellious. Vygor went into the bedroom for one last consult while Kani, Kressa, and Vos made up a list for volunteers and Eller typed it into an interactive sign up form. Yoda sat on the couch, wringing his hands and watching the bedroom door.

“Alright, I’m posting this on your apartment block’s page. You might want to post a notice somewhere so people who are wondering don’t need to stop in to ask.” She turned to Yoda. “I changed your outgoing messages, so callers know you’re on vigil, and I did so for Kenobi too. Hopefully the gaps in the schedule will fill in, but worst-case scenario I will sit here with him while you’re in that Council session. In the meantime, since we do have some coverage now, I suggest you get a nap, Master. We’ll do everything we can to keep him home, but we’re not going to let you work yourself into exhaustion over this.”

Yoda sighed. “Sleep now cannot. Meditate can.” He slipped off the couch and settled in front of the window, soaking up the sun like a cat.

A few minutes later, Vygor came out, thanking the healers. Yoda was instantly alert and went over to consult with them in hushed voices. The healers went over the treatment plan, even agreeing that being home seemed to be best as the patient was improving and explained what caregivers should watch for and to call if there were any worries or concerns. Vygor apologized for having to leave, Yoda thanked everyone for their help and within minutes the only people left in the apartment were Yoda, Eller and Obi-Wan.

Eller came over to the tiny master, holding out a teacup full of water. “Drink, then you can go check on him.” He drank dutifully. “The knights had responsibilities they needed to attend to, but they’ll be back later.”

“Thank you I do.” Yoda put down the cup and peered into the bedroom. The blackout shades had been drawn and a night light had been left on.

“He’ll be alright, Master.”

“Poor boy. Embarrassed he will be.”

“Does he have friends who should be notified? Should we contact Master Jinn?”

“No. Contact Jinn not. Such stress he does not need. Best friend Bant Eerin is, but out of Temple I think. If contact can, know others she will. Not sure of other friends. All were knighted ahead of him, distance there now.”

“Bant Eerin, got it.” She started typing the next message. “Go sit with him, Master. I’ll hold down the fort and update Master Windu.”

“Thank you,” with a nod he crept into the bedroom, trying to be quiet.

Obi-Wan lay motionless in the bed, clear fluid dripping into his arm. Vygor had left the desk chair next to the bed and Yoda scrambled up into it, relieved to be high enough to see the knight’s face.

“Scare you gave us, my not quite padawan. Do everything alone you do not have to.” He placed one hand on Obi-Wan’s forehead, but the sleep compulsion was still holding, and his mind was quiet, no longer struggling as his body crept closer to normal. “So quiet you are. Sleep like this you did in creche. Very small then you were. Probably remember you do not.” He moved to pick up Obi-Wan’s hand in his smaller ones, clucking over the bruises on the wrist and forearm he hadn’t seen the day before. “Sing to younglings I do. Remember that you do? Make you laugh it would when ears I would wiggle, but help you sleep it would. Sing to you now I should? So safe you know you are?”

Yoda began to sing a quiet lullabye in a language Eller did not recognize. She looked away from the door, trying to give the master his privacy. She remembered being asked once by a senator petitioning the Council how she could work for Jedi, that soulless, workaholic freaks who disavowed their families and homeworlds must be compassionless, cold, and uncaring. The longer she kept this job, the more she learned how untrue that was. Jedi might not have attachments, spouses or children, but they most definitely have families, just not the kind defined by titles or blood. Eller started the next message on her list as Master Yoda continued to quietly sing in the dark. It was going to be a long day and an even longer night.

* * *

Ospen walked as briskly as his long cassock would allow, alarmed that the urgent call button had been rung for the third time in as many minutes and was coming from the front desk. Security guards were posted there with full access to medical assistance. Perhaps the guard was having a medical emergency?

The monk rounded the last corner to find the guard and the receptionist cowering away from a tall Jedi in full robes, towering over them, glaring in very controlled annoyance. The man had steel gray hair shot through with white that had been combed back, dark-tinted glasses over his eyes and a very powerful presence in the Force that was only felt in the true masters of the order.

“Can I help you?” Ospen asked, catching the eyes of the very cowed receptionist and intimidated security guard.

The Jedi Master turned his head, his demeanor stilling as he looked at Ospen. “Brother Ospen, thank the Force. These two jackanapes keep telling me I’m not allowed to leave.”

Ospen stared at the Jedi for almost a full minute. “Master Si?”

The Jedi quirked an eyebrow and took off the glasses. “Last I checked.”

Brother Ospen blinked and felt as if his brain was rebooting. He had never seen Master Silvanus in full Jedi dress before, much less exuding this much Presence. Yoda had told him Si was much stronger than he let on (and his skill with Breggle tended to give it away if one paid attention), but Ospen had never witnessed it personally. This was not the sharp-tongued, sometimes grumpy, retired Master Si. This was Battlemaster Simet Silvanus.

Ospen looked to the staff members. The security guard gulped. “I don’t know what a jackanape is Brother Ospen, but this um, man is not on the list.”

“Yes, well, Master Silvanus doesn’t usually leave the facility.”

Si crossed his arms under his sleeves, which while typical of Jedi, also served to hide his tremor. “I was under the impression I was a _resident_ , not a prisoner.”

Master Bes came into the lobby, back from his weekly trip to see the changing art exhibit in the Visitor’s Hall. He caught sight of Si’s posture and Force presence and stared, slack-jawed.

“You’re not a prisoner, Si,” Ospen held his hands out, placating. “You just have to sign out if you leave so we can keep track of the residents.”

Si gave Ospen a glare. “ _Sign_ out?”

“The guard can sign you out. You aren’t on his list because you haven’t left the facility recently. It helps to ensure that residents like Master Clearing don’t wander off.” He looked Si over. The man was dressed in full tunics, tabards, obi, robe, boots and belt. He was even carrying his lightsaber. The most Ospen had ever seen him dress up in was the dark robe for the occasional funeral.

“Where exactly are you trying to go, Master Si?”

Si _had_ been depressed. Ospen had _thought_ he was doing better, but suddenly dressing in his best clothes and carrying his saber was ringing alarm bells in Ospen’s brain, forget the ones at the desk.

“The Knight’s Tower.”

“Why?”

“Master needs help.”

The guard shared a look with Ospen, clearly thinking at least _one_ master in this room needed help.

“In the Knight’s Tower?” Ospen had the sinking feeling Master Si might finally be losing his Breggle stones.

“Yes,” Si glared at him, clearly sensing his doubt. “The duckling had a bad mission and is very ill. Yoda’s holding a vigil and needs people to sit with him. _In the Knight’s Tower_. Where the _duckling lives_.”

Ospen looked at him oddly for a moment until he suddenly realized what Si meant. “Oh! Is that why Master Yoda cancelled for tea?”

“I assume so.”

“Have you been to the Main Temple, um, recently?” So far as Ospen knew, Si had never left the facility for anything other than medical appointments the entire time he had lived there.

“No, but I assume the Knight’s Tower is still in the same place.”

“Can you walk that far?” Ospen could see Master Si releasing his annoyance as he acknowledged that this was a fair question to pose to a centenarian.

“I walk five kilometers three days a week on the treadmill.”

The guard looked doubtful.

“He does,” Master Bes piped up. “I’ve seen him do it.”

“Thank you, Master Bes.”

“Would you like to sign— um, use a scooter?” He gestured to Master Bes who was in the process of signing his scooter back in.

Si looked over the scooter skeptically. “I don’t know how to drive them,” he admitted at last. “Nor would I know how to reach the Knight’s Tower by an accessible route.”

“Um, you could probably steer telekinetically if you switched to hand control only,” Bes offered. “I can’t manage the pedals, but the hand controls aren’t that stiff.”

Si gave Bes an assessing look; Bes actually blushed slightly under his gaze.

“May I?” Si asked, peering at Bes’s scooter.

“Sure,” Bes got off the scooter and watched as Si tested the controls, moving switches delicately with his mind, the brake firmly in place.

Si turned to Ospen. “Master might need help moving things. The scooter is a good idea.”

“Um, I could also show you how to get there,” Bes added. “If you want.”

“I don’t want to keep you from your plans, Bes, but thank you.”

“My plans got cancelled.” Bes actually looked bashful. “I don’t mind.”

Ospen bit back a smile, remembering Yoda’s prediction. The security guard looked weirded out by the whole thing.

“Give me the paperwork, I’ll authorize it. We’ll make sure Master Si gets put on the list later.” He turned to Si. “Do you want me to have your afternoon pills brought down so you can take them while you’re there?”

Si had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Have Master Bes show you the ropes. By the time the pills and another scooter arrives I’ll have this taken care of.” Ospen directed the receptionist to bring around another scooter while Bes very enthusiastically demonstrated the controls, letting Si get a feel for manipulating them.

“So,” the guard asked when he thought Si was out of earshot. “Are we waiting for him to forget he wanted to leave or are you calling someone to sedate him?”

“We’re signing him out and letting Master Bes take him to the Knight’s Tower.” Ospen messaged the pharmacy clerk to pull both Si _and_ Bes’s afternoon pills for an outing, then began to fill out the forms. “I’ve been trying to get Master Si to get out and about since I started serving here. If he wants to go sit vigil in the Knight’s Tower, that’s a good thing.”

“Is he . . . um, all there? Most people don’t make this much fuss over waterfowl.”

“ _Yes_ , he’s all there. He just can’t fill out forms. The ‘duck’ is actually a person.”

The guard glanced over and noted Si’s shaking hands. The receptionist returned with the scooter, followed by a wide-eyed Sister Nellise carrying the pill packs.

“You’re really letting him leave?” the nun asked, very unsettled by Master Si’s sudden wanderlust.

“He has a buddy to help. He can call if he gets stuck somewhere.”

Ospen walked the pill packs over to his residents, looking on in approval as they each settled on their scooters and adjusted their robes to prevent dragging.

“You comm me if you need anything, and let me know if Master Yoda needs any volunteers, okay?” Vigils traditionally had been a sacred duty of the monks back when knights and monks had existed in more equal proportions. Some of the brothers and sisters regularly attended vigils, even for Jedi they did not know.

“I will, thank you for your assistance Brother Ospen.”

“May the Force be with you, Masters,” he waved them off, hoping he hadn’t just unleashed a monster.

* * *

Cin and Gi-Ho were walking through the Main Temple, returning from the Council Chamber. Cin had been very concerned by Yoda’s disappearing act in the middle of his report on measures the training staff were taking the prepare for future encounters with the ‘Sith presence,’ but he didn’t take it personally. He and Yoda had had many discussions on exactly this issue; he was more concerned about what sort of emergency would call the Grandmaster out of a Council Session.

“I say plumbing. His quarters flooded. It’s an old Temple. Lots of pipe breaks.”

“No, Gi-Ho. He was worried about something before. He wasn’t surprised when Eller came in.”

“Yeah, but he’s the grandmaster. He can see the possible futures. He knew the pipe would break, but he had to wait to be told it had happened.”

A powerful Force presence shot across the pavilion behind them, and Cin caught a fleeting glimpse of a silver-haired man on a scooter speeding toward the Knight’s Tower.

Cin and Gi-Ho shared a look.

“Did that feel like . . . ?” Gi-Ho trailed off.

“For a moment, I thought that was Master Silvanus.”

“Weird,” Gi-Ho shook his head.

“Si! Wait!” A white-haired man on a scooter, moving at a rational speed, followed the same trajectory. “You’re not supposed to go that fast!”

Cin and Gi-Ho stared after the second scooter.

“I’d better get back to the security office. The sleeping dragon has awoken.”

“He’s going to get a fine,” Gi-Ho predicted.

“Only if they catch him.”

* * *

Bes arrived at the far end of the pavilion to find Si sitting on his scooter, glaring at the long list of security regulations for entering the Knight’s Tower.

“What is all this security theater bantha shit?”

Bes parked his scooter next to Si’s. “We’re coming in on the same floor as the public access level. You need to pass security to enter the Tower on this floor.”

Si gave him an incredulous look. “So if I walked up two flights of stairs I could enter the tower unimpeded?”

“I think so. I once got out on that floor by accident and had to get back on the lift. But there are guards stationed at the stairs.”

“Because no one can take out a guard?”

Bes laughed. “ _I’m_ too old to take out a guard.”

Si glared at a guard stationed near the door to the landing platforms outside. “You could take out a guard, Bes. You’re just not sufficiently motivated.” He jerked his chin toward the desk. “I take it we have to go over there?”

“Yes, you need to show ID and be cleared.”

Si rolled his eyes but followed Bes to the desk. Bes pulled a lanyard out from under his tunic and put the card holder up to the scanner, then smiled at the identity droid that was mapping his face. Si checked the pockets of his belt, mentally cursing at the ordeal as his fingers did not cooperate.

“Good day, Master Bes. Welcome back to the Knight’s Tower.” The droid gave Bes the green light and he moved the scooter inside. Si finally found his ID card and presented it to the droid with a dubious expression. The droid flashed red. “You are not authorized. You are not authorized.”

“Charming.”

The carbon-based guard on duty waved him over to the desk. Si offered up his ID and a stern expression.

“This isn’t the correct form of ID.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “Nevertheless, that is the ID I have.”

The guard peered at the chip card, unfamiliar with the format. “This card expired eight years ago.”

“Surprisingly I did not.”

“Do you honestly expect me to believe this is real?” the guard scoffed. “According to this you’re one hundred years old.”

“Actually, he’s one-hundred-and-five,” Bes offered. He peered at the card, sharpening his vision with the Force. “Oh Si, that’s the old cards. They replaced those five or six years ago. Can I bring Master Si in as a guest?”

The guard checked the log. “I’m afraid you can only let him into your own area of residence.”

“Could you perhaps look me up in the system?” Si suggested testily. It wasn’t as if Jedi never lost their identity cards.

The guard handed him a datapad and stylus. “Fill out this form.”

Si glared down at the form. “Kriff.”

“Master Si can’t fill out forms. His hands shake.” Bes held out a hand. “I can fill it out.”

Si released his frustration to the Force.

“Look,” the guard seemed equally frustrated. “Do you have any proof you’re actually a Jedi and not some Jedi groupie?”

Si crossed his arms. “I take it a lightsaber demonstration is out.”

“Here,” the guard slid his half-empty cup of caff across the desk. “Lift my caff and I’ll look for you in the system.” The guard smirked as Si stared him down and the cup didn’t move. The expression fell off his face when a sphere of liquid caff levitated out of the cup and floated into his personal space. Bes stared, wide-eyed.

“Where would you like me to put it?” Si asked, no evidence of strain in his gravelly voice.

The guard gulped. “Back in the cup is fine.” He groped for the comm, eyes never leaving the floating sphere of caff until it smoothly dropped back into the cup. Si glanced at Bes who was still looking at him in awe.

The guard sputtered to his superior, babbling about a Jedi Master with an expired ID needing confirmation. This was followed by the guard answering a series of yes/no questions before he suddenly handed the comm to Si, along with his ID card.

“Yes?” Si wondered what new moron he would have to deal with next.

“Si, why are you trying to break into the Knight’s Tower?”

“Cin, I’m not fooling around. Master needs help.”

“In the Knight’s Tower?”

“Master is holding a vigil. Duckling’s in a bad way.”

“Kriff, is that what’s been going on?” Si could hear Cin hitting keys on his datapad. “I won’t keep you. Give the comm back to the guard. Just no more speeding in the Temple. The Force doesn’t warn every Jedi of danger as well as you.”

Si rolled his eyes. “Yes, _Mother._ Thank you.” He passed the comm back. “Battlemaster Drallig wants to speak with you.”

The guard took the comm back, looking at both Si and Bes warily. After a few more ‘yes sirs’ Si was waved through, forms unfilled. Si followed Bes to the lift which took them up to the secure level and to the next challenge. Si drove over to the wall, searching for Kenobi’s name in the directory. Bes rolled up next to him.

“That is small print, Si. Was Kenobi his first name or his last name?”

“Last.”

Bes leaned closer, wishing he hadn’t left his reading glasses at home. Si looked over the knights coming and going, leaning on the Force for guidance. Assistance came in the form of two young knights coming in with bags of groceries.

“We’ll make one batch with nerf and one batch with veg protein. That should cover most people and we’re not the only ones bringing food.” Kani sighed. “Hopefully it won’t be more than a day or two.”

“Does the Grandmaster eat nerf?” Jitters asked.

“Excuse me, Knights,” Si attempted to look competent, knowing friendly was beyond his ability and had been for decades. “Would you happen to know where Master Yoda is holding vigil for Knight Kenobi?”

“Yes,” Kani seemed hopeful. “Were you coming to sit vigil?”

“I was,” Si did not want to speak for Bes. “Even we old, retired Jedi look out for our friends.”

Jitters looked at Si warily. “Are all of Kenobi’s friends old?”

Kani rolled her eyes.

“We’re more friends with Yoda, actually,” Bes supplied.

“Oh,” Jitters looked a bit embarrassed. “Come on. Grandmaster Yoda needs more help than we can give him right now.” He began to walk toward the lifts.

“Thank you for coming,” Kani smiled, quite able to do friendly. “Eller was very worried about getting enough volunteers.”

Si turned to thank Bes for his assistance, but the Kiffar was already motoring toward the lifts. Si followed.

“Are you friends with Knight Kenobi?” Bes smiled up at the young knights.

“We’re neighbors,” Kani replied. “We’ve socialized at floor events a few times, but Jitters and I are both relatively new to the neighborhood. We try to take care of each other if we can.”

“Reminds me of when I was a young knight,” Bes grinned. “What about you, Si?”

“I was a traveling knight at that age. Stayed in the barracks. Spent my downtime at different temples, learning saber forms or taking university classes.”

“Workaholic?” Jitters asked.

“Artist.”

Jitters looked mystified.

The exited the lift, quieting their voices as soon as they entered the floor. Kani led them down the correct hall. Si let Bes thank the young knights, his mind already reaching out for his distraught master.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING** : attempted rape occurs offscreen. Actual rape does not happen, but it's a close thing.
> 
> Hope you are all game for hurt/comfort, because it will take a while before Obi-Wan is back to normal. Any thoughts about this chapter? I know this story moves slow, so I hope I'm not boring anyone.


	10. Part X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jedi work together for the vigil, Quinlan learns more about Master Si and Master Bes, Master Tahl lends her support, Master Si and Master Bes talk, Garen is clueless, the clergy lend a hand, Yoda tells stories, there is a royal freak out, and Quinlan gets a clue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song lyrics are from Billy Joel's "Lullabye." I grew up on Long Island, so we listened to a lot of Billy Joel.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcnd55tLCv8
> 
>  **WARNING:** brief discussion of attempted rape. 
> 
> **So, to address the elephant in the room, COVID-19. I am an essential employee at my job and responsibility in my department has been disproportionately placed on me. I have been given more on site work, not less, and while I hope this will let up in the next two weeks, I am also on call to replace other on site workers should they fall sick or be told to isolate at home. I will try to keep posting regularly, but conditions are changing daily and it's clear that the higher ups feel I should just do more so other people don't have to. Doing the best we can out here. Hope everyone is staying healthy and can get to the polls if it's your time for that.**

_Goodnight, my angel,_

_Now it's time to sleep,_

_And still so many things I want to say._

_Remember all the songs you sang for me_

_When we went sailing on an emerald bay._

_And like a boat out on the ocean,_

_I'm rocking you to sleep._

_The water's dark_

_And deep inside this ancient heart,_

_You'll always be a part of me._

\-- Billy Joel “Lullabye”

Yoda huddled on the couch with Eller, trying to figure out how they could get coverage for the vigil. Obi-Wan was resting quietly, getting much needed sleep and the volunteer slots were slowly starting to fill in. Eller was still firm that Yoda was not going to stay overnight, no matter how many naps he took.

Suddenly Yoda sat upright, turning toward the door with a stunned expression. Eller wondered what the master was sensing and after a moment Kani opened the unlocked door and came in, followed by Jitters and two Jedi on scooters.

“Simet?” Yoda sounded as if he could not believe his eyes. “Left home you have?”

“Master,” Si parked the scooter in the corner and immediately went over to Yoda, sitting next to him on the couch and letting the small master lean against him, soaking up comfort. “You didn’t think I’d let you sit here all alone, did you?”

Yoda obviously thought that yes, Simet would, and didn’t have a problem with that, but opted to keep his mouth shut.

“Bes,” Yoda held out a hand from his spot on the couch. “Good to see you it is.”

Bes sat down in the armchair and took Yoda’s small hand in his own. “We would have missed you at tea, Master Yoda.”

Kani came back out from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of fruit that she put on the caff table, before ducking out with the rest of the groceries. Jitters checked in with Eller, letting her know they would be back later.

“If you need to get back, I can manage, Bes.” Si projected genuine gratitude. “Thank you very much for helping me get here.”

Bes shrugged. “I can stay awhile, unless you’d rather be alone.”

“We need all the help we can get,” Eller answered. She looked them over. “I’ve been trying to get him to take a nap and rest, but he doesn’t trust me to watch Kenobi without the Force. If you two can stay with him, I really need to get back to the Council Tower.”

“We can stay,” Bes answered before Si could get a word in. “Si, you take care of your master. I’ll go make some tea.”

Si gave Bes a grateful look. Even Bes could see how upset Yoda still was.

“That’s a very good idea. Come, Master.” Si got up from the couch. “Let’s cleanse the room of all of this anxiety.” Si shot Eller a look to let her know he would take care of her boss. He led Yoda over to a round throw rug, sat down on one side and held out his shaking hands. Yoda settled across from him, clasping one hand in each of his own, and opened his mind to his former padawan. Within moments a feeling of calm began to permeate the room, even Eller felt it.

“Are you both going to be alright by yourselves?” She shook her head, as if trying to clear it. “If I stay, I might fall asleep.”

“The idea is for _Yoda_ to fall asleep. You go on,” Bes smiled at her. “Si will take care of Yoda. I’ll look out for Si.”

Eller gave Bes her card. “You need _anything_ , call with _that_ code, that’s my direct line. Thank you for helping.” With another fond look at Yoda, she left. Bes headed to the kitchen, enjoying the calm waves of peace that were filling the apartment. Bes had just put the water on to heat and was contemplating the choices for tea when he heard the door open and two people enter the apartment.

Quinlan and Kressa stopped at the sight and feel of the two Jedi Masters in deep meditation. The calm feeling almost made her want to sit down and join them. They both shared a look, it was clear neither knew who the gray-haired human was. The sound of tea tins being opened drew them to the kitchen.

“Master Bes!” Quin managed to keep his surprised exclamation to a loud whisper. “What are you doing here?”

Bes finished fussing with the tea. “Helping Si help out Yoda.” He peeked over Quin’s shoulder, but the meditation remained undisturbed. “Knight Kenobi mentioned having a Kiffar neighbor. I didn’t realize it was you, dear boy. I take it this is why you had to cancel lunch?”

“Yes, I’m sorry Master Bes.”

“Don’t worry about it. We have to take care of each other. Can’t rely on the Force for everything. How is your friend?”

“The lantern was yellow, so much better than we were expecting this morning. We didn’t think he had gone to the Dark, it seems it was mostly just a fever-induced delirium.”

Bes caught the ‘mostly.’ Yoda wouldn’t have been so worried over _just_ a fever. “Was anyone hurt?” Bes peered back at Yoda and Si. “I saw your friend demonstrating his saber skills at the home.”

“No, he was disoriented, but not violent, thank the Force,” Kressa replied. “You saw Obi-Wan fight the droids?”

Bes smiled. “He put on a good show for us old people.” Quinlan looked interested.

“I’ve got the footage,” Kressa whispered to Quin. “I’ll show you later.”

Bes raised his eyebrows.

“Quin rather enjoys good saberwork.”

Bes laughed, then poured the hot water before the kettle could scream. “I’m aware. You want a real show, you should look up clips of Si when he was younger and still dueling.”

“Was he good?” Quin asked.

“Amazing,” Bes smiled to himself. “Not better than Yoda, but one of the best.”

“What form did he use?”

“Pick a form, he used it. Well, not form VII, but all the rest.”

“He uses all six forms?” Kressa asked, surprised.

“He _used_ to use all six. He’s retired like me now. Can’t saber duel anymore.”

“I take it he’s close with Master Yoda?” Kressa asked, still curious.

“Very.” Bes peeked over her shoulder, glad to see Yoda was looking less fretful and more settled. It was little wonder Si had been concerned enough to actually leave the retirement home. “He was one of Yoda’s padawans.”

“I haven’t heard you talk about him before, is he a new resident?” Quin asked as he opened the chiller and went through it, looking for expired food to make room for the provisions the volunteers were bringing for those sitting for the vigil.

“Si? No. He moved to the home before I did, when his hands got bad. If they hadn’t, he’d probably still be dueling. And painting.”

“He was a painter?”

“Oh yes. You know that large canvas of all the little Jedi figures dueling with the different colored lightsabers in the hall near the training salle?”

“The one with all the Force patterns on it?” Kressa asked, pretty sure she had passed it every day on her way to class.

“Oh yeah, over the entrance to the main salle,” Quin nodded. “I’ve always wanted to get a psychometric reading off that one.”

“That’s one of Si’s,” Bes smiled to himself. “I remember when he was working on it. He had taken a nasty fall and sprained his ankle, so he set up the canvas just outside the main salle and painted all the cool moves the sparring Jedi were doing.” Bes’s eyes lit up at the memory. “He’d let the psychometric Jedi feel it as he was working on it, as long as we didn’t actually touch it. It was more like a gallery with dozens of little paintings, sometimes you could even pick out who a particular Jedi was, just from the impression. Yoda was in it. Master Koon.” Bes thought harder. “If I remember, Master Tahl was in there too, and Master Jinn, but they were still padawans back then.” He thought harder. “Master Yaddle, Master Rancissus, oh and Master Bellou and Master Fizzit, though you probably don’t know them, they’ve passed into the Force.” Bes beamed at the memory.

“Are you in it?” Quin asked.

“Oh, no. I was just a young knight then, more diplomat than fighter. I didn’t stand out among the stars.”

Quin turned to Kressa. “If you hadn’t already noticed, Master Bes is the epitome of humility.”

Kressa gave him a smile. She knew what it was like to accept her mediocre saber abilities.

“Did he do anything else we would recognize?” Quin asked.

“Oh yes, you’ve seen his work before. He was very prolific so sometimes his pieces rotate through the Visitor’s Hall. He did lots of different things. Landscapes, portraits, still lifes. He’d take classes during his rest periods on different worlds and bring the techniques back with him, since he worked out of the Temple the rest of the time. He was very well known in the local arts community back in the day, even outside the Temple.”

Quin peered back at Si and Yoda again, but he still didn’t look familiar. “How far back was this day?”

Bes laughed. “It’s been a while. Before your time. When I was young and steady on my actual feet.” He removed the tea leaves from the pot then poured out cups for everyone, checking to see if Yoda had fallen asleep yet. He hadn’t. “He was involved in the arts for quite a few decades, but not much since he moved to the home. I can’t remember the last time he actually left the residence, even just to come to the Main Temple. Yoda was shocked.”

“Were you padawans together?” Kressa asked. “You seem to know a lot about him.”

“Oh, no. Acquaintances if that. Just neighbors now.”

“Oh,” Quinlan peered at Bes. “I thought maybe you and he were . . . more than friends?”

Bes blushed brightly, a startling contrast to his facial tattoos. “No,” he tried to laugh it off. “Si is out of _my_ league _and_ in a relationship.”

“But you like him?”

Bes shrugged.

“Out of your league? Bantha poodoo,” Quin tried to catch his eye, aware that Master Bes tended to get lonely and he had apparently struck a nerve. “You’re a Jedi Master, a skilled negotiator, and an honorable man. And you like him. Go for it. The worst he could be is monogamous.”

“Or straight,” Kressa shrugged, though relatively few Jedi were exclusively heterosexual.

Bes looked into his teacup. “Master Si was quite openly bisexual when he was younger.” He sipped his tea. “He’s more discreet now, but as I said, taken. And not interested. Wasn’t sixty years ago, isn’t now. Not that he should have been back then. That would have been scandalous. And illegal.”

“You’re um, seventy-six, right?” Quin asked and Bes nodded. “Oh, Force. You’ve liked this guy since you were _sixteen_ and you never went for it?”

Bes shrugged.

“What about when you were eighteen? He was what, twenty? Twenty-five?”

Bes rested his forehead on his hand, laughing, but there was a hint of old heartbreak in it. “Force, no.”

“Why not?”

“Quinlan,” Bes shook his head. “Si is one-hundred-and-five.”

There was a quiet moment as Quin and Kressa processed this, then glanced back at the man sitting with Yoda. He was definitely an older man, but they wouldn’t have considered him elderly.

“Really?” Quin asked, incredulously.

“So, you were sixteen and he was forty-five?” Kressa’s eyes widened.

“First crush,” Bes shrugged. “Totally inappropriate. I’m just glad I was too unremarkable a student for him to remember my embarrassing behavior.”

“I thought you were an excellent student.” Quin did not like to see Bes get down on himself. The other masters had told him Bes had been more confident before the accident that took his legs and ended his career in the field. “You’ve written books, negotiated treaties.”

“Oh, academics, I was fine. Si taught saber dueling.”

That certainly explained why this Si would know all six forms.

“You had a crush on your saber instructor?” Kressa smiled, not teasing, but projecting that she thought this was fairly normal. Masters Gi-Ho and Nori weren’t _her_ type, but she could appreciate how others might feel differently.

“It was awful,” Bes sighed. “I was a terrible duelist, always have been, they were recommending I study Niman when I was still a _padawan_ for Force’s sake. And then sometimes Si would teach the class, and he’s so _strong_ in the Force, those of us with ‘inappropriate feelings’ were always so sure he must know. And it would make us more nervous. Awful.”

Quin smiled, trying to imagine Master Bes as an awkward teenager. “Must have been hard when you can’t hide behind a desk.”

“You have no idea. And he was a very hands-on instructor too, making sure you had your positions just right. He didn’t just take art classes, he’d take dance workshops too, learn different ways to move, bring back what they taught him. So, you’d show up to class expecting Master Noova or Master Gupp and then Si would show up in a damn leotard and make us drill to music, so we’d get the rhythm.” Bes’s eyes boggled at the memory. “A _leotard_! And then you’d do something wrong, and he’d call a halt and come up to you and say in that deep, raspy voice, ‘Can I move your leg, Bes?’ and I’d be desperately trying not to embarrass myself.”

“Aww,” Kressa knew well how awful student crushes could be, and she had known most of her instructors only through holo transmissions.

“He always asked. It was always awkward.” Bes rolled his eyes at himself. “I swore he knew.”

“Are you sure he didn’t ask because you’re Kiffar?” Quin asked. “I’m almost thirty and the clinic instructors still ask before they do training taps.”

Bes frowned. “I was the only Kiffar in my age group.”

“It probably wasn’t the crush, Bes.” Quin shook his head. “Didn’t your hand to hand instructors do the same thing?”

Bes frowned, thinking it over. “I don’t recall.”

“So, he taught the padawans?” Quin asked. “You never hit on him when you were a knight?”

Bes sighed. “He taught _everyone_ , Quinlan. He was the damn _Battlemaster_.”

Kressa froze, then peeked out into the common room again. The silver-haired man hadn’t moved, but Yoda was looking noticeably droopy. “Wait, is that _Master Silvanus_?”

“Oh, you’ve heard of him?” Bes perked up.

Kressa nodded. “Master Drallig talks about him a lot.” She poked Quin in the ribs. “He’s the one with the droids!”

“Oh.”

“Told you, out of my league,” but Bes was smiling. “Taught all the great masters you know, well, not Yoda. Drallig, Windu, Jinn, Gi-Ho, Nori, _Koon_. Used to call Windu a smartass. Still does sometimes. Didn’t approve of him experimenting with Vapaad. He and Yoda got into quite a tiff about it. It was _epic_.”

They all felt a subtle shift in the Force. The feeling of peace did not stop, but it was no longer being actively generated. Yoda had finally fallen asleep. Kressa peeked out the door to see Si hold out his shaking hands, using the Force to gently tip Yoda to the side and levitate him over to the couch. The tiny master snuggled into a throw pillow, sighing. Si stood up, made sure Yoda was covered by his robe, then stroked his head once with a shaking hand before coming to the kitchen door.

“Master is asleep,” he announced, then looked at Quinlan and Kressa who were hiding their surprise at how deep and gravelly his voice was. “Did you want to check on the patient, or should I?”

“I’ll go.” Quin ducked out as Bes offered Si tea.

“Is Master Yoda alright?” Kressa asked. It was a bit early in the day for napping.

“He’s fine. He just needs sleep now if he’s going to be up half the night for the vigil.”

Kressa frowned. “We’re trying to get volunteers for the overnight shifts.”

“Good,” Si held up his hands and there was an odd fluctuation in the Force as he steadied them enough to accept the teacup. “Master shouldn’t be alone, but even I know I won’t be able to persuade him to go home. So, naptime now.” He took a sip. “Thank you, Bes.”

“He’s going to stay the whole night?” Bes looked worried.

Si put down his cup with care and as soon as his hands were clear they started shaking again. “It’s not unusual for him, even at his age, but I know he’s been dispensing Force healing that’s probably unnecessary and _that_ will wear him out more than staying awake will. Besides,” he turned to Kressa. “He thinks of your friend as if he one of his padawans. He might fall asleep, but he’ll be here all night or until the kid wakes up.”

“Once a padawan, always a padawan?” Bes asked, remembering his own master visiting him once when he was convalescing after taking a few blaster shots he hadn’t been able to completely deflect. He had missed her terribly when he lost his legs, but she had long since joined the Force by then.

“You have no idea. There was a particularly nasty strain of Bul virus that burned its way through the Temple. I was teaching so my catching it was inevitable. He practically moved into my quarters, at least until I could keep food down again.”

“How old were you?” Kressa asked.

“Seventy-four!” This earned a round of quiet giggles.

Quin popped back in. “Everything looks okay. The healers left a monitor on him and everything said stable or improving.”

“Good. Let’s go sit, Bes.” Si led them back out to the common room, his teacup floating serenely at his elbow until it settled on the caff table and he sat down next to Yoda, rubbing his back gently.

“Wow,” Quin raised an eyebrow at Bes. “Strong in the Force.”

Bes shrugged. “He’s adapting for the hands. You should have seen him earlier. He can levitate _liquids_.”

“Liquids?”

“Tell you later,” Bes whispered, then walked over to the armchair and sat, looking at the sleeping Yoda in concern. “Is there anything else we should do to help?”

“Not right now,” Si stretched, then leaned back against the cushions. “The young people are taking care of the chores, you’ve made the tea, Yoda is resting, the duck is resting. Now we just sit. Keep an eye on the healing. Read, meditate, rest your eyes, talk. Just keep everything calm.” The data comm Eller had left made a quiet pinging sound. Si levitated it over to his lap, put on his spectacles, and turned it on, frowning. Bes tried not to think how attractive the glasses made him look when he was dressed up.

“Slots are filling in, Bes. We have volunteers after 15:00, and one youngster offered to pick up lunch for us from the commissary.”

“Oh, how nice.” Yellow vigils, especially if not contagious, were really the best kind. The patient was either chatting or sleeping, not in serious danger, and there was food without people being too upset to enjoy it. “What are our choices?”

Si read off the menu, and Quinlan sent an order for all five of them, letting Si pick for Master Yoda. Kressa gathered up Obi-Wan’s laundry, knowing it might be a few days before he would be up to doing it, and Quinlan requested a few extra pajama sets from Stores when Kressa mentioned he only had two and he was wearing one of them. When Quinlan explained he was ordering on behalf of someone under vigil, the clerk told him not to worry about the size, they would look it up and asked if anything else was needed. Quin looked around at his companions.

“Disposable dishes and cups,” Bes advised.

Si glanced at Yoda. “Small disposable cups. Or shot glasses.”

“Handsoap and disposable towels for the fresher,” Kressa called. “People will be in and out.”

Quinlan relayed this to the clerk, who offered to throw in the standard caff and tea sampler. Quin agreed.

The rest of the morning was quiet and peaceful. Quinlan had to leave again. Si and Bes made small talk for a while. At noon Si got up to check on Obi-Wan and sat with him for a few minutes, pondering his master’s latest protégé. A quick scan with the Force revealed he had been dangerously close to very serious illness, and his emotions were still in turmoil, waiting like sleeping beasts for him to be healthy enough to process them, but for now the sleep compulsion was keeping him calm. He had some nasty bruises on his wrists and forearms, some were clearly fingermarks, and the Force whispered of a more general beating, but his brain, though unconscious, did not seem to be compromised by more than illness and sleep deprivation.

“You keep sleeping, young one. We’ll watch over you while Master Yoda sleeps. Enjoy the rest while you can, Master will probably want to wipe the floor with you later to make sure you’re alright.” He reached out his shaking hand and ran the back of his knuckles along the young man’s hand, finding this easier than trying to hold his hand. To his surprise, the young man latched onto his hand, his sleep undisturbed. _Jedi reflexes intact_. He didn’t squeeze, just held on gently, trusting Si was safe, probably due to the sleep compulsion. After a few minutes the fingers went lax and Si was able to pull away without resorting to telekinesis. “You keep resting.”

When Si came back to the common room, a young knight he didn’t know was dropping off lunch and Yoda was starting to wake up.

“Put me to sleep you did.”

“You needed it.” Si slid Yoda’s soup in front of him, then looked over his own assortment of finger foods and a protein shake. Not the most appetizing, but the least likely to end up all over him if the shaking got bad. Bes tucked into his own sandwich, making small talk with Quin and Kressa.

Yoda stretched several times and after a few minutes woke up enough to eat his soup. “Changes have there been?”

“Nothing on the monitor,” Quin replied.

“All is well in the Force, Master. Stop fussing.” Si’s rough voice sounded stern but the gentle pat on Yoda’s back gave away the fond sentiment. “Your young friend is resting comfortably.”

Yoda gave Si a look that indicated he had expected him to say something else, but when he did not, he went back to his soup. They were finishing their lunches (Bes was pacing himself, knowing Si had to eat slowly) and Yoda had gone to sit with Obi-Wan when the door opened and a Noorian woman poked her head in.

“Excuse me, is this the vigil for Knight Kenobi?”

“Master Tahl,” Si stood up and went over to greet her. “Yes, please come in.”

She frowned. “Master _Silvanus_?”

“Master Si. You’re old enough now.” He held out an arm to escort he to the couch. Quinlan realized as they both sat down that she must have a visual impairment for all that she didn’t used a cane.

“What brings you to the vigil?” Bes asked.

“My former padawan,” she replied. “Bant has been Obi-Wan’s best friend since the creche. She is en route home and commed me asking that I check in. What’s happening?”

“We’re at warm yellow,” Bes replied, knowing Tahl wouldn’t have been able to tell. “Master Yoda could give you more details.”

“In fact,” Si turned to look over the couch, trying to peer into the dim bedroom. “He should stop with the Force healing and let the boy _sleep_.” He made a subtle maneuver with the Force, tugging on Yoda’s robe to get his attention.

“That certainly felt like Master Silvanus using the Force.”

Si snorted. “I didn’t _sound_ like Master Silvanus?”

“I didn’t think you came to the Knight’s Tower.”

“It’s been a while.”

Bes laughed. “You seem well, Master Tahl.”

“Other than being worried and talking down a concerned knight, I’ve been fine. Busy, but fine.”

Yoda came out of the bedroom, giving Si a glare before reaching out to Master Tahl with the Force.

“There you are,” her expression was fond even if her eyeline did not meet up with his face. “You could have called me, you know. Unlike most of your non-retired friends, I can actually bring my work with me.”

“Put you in awkward position I did not want.”

“I wasn’t going to tell him without your consent, Master Yoda. There is nothing awkward about that. I’m Obi-Wan’s friend too, even without Qui-Gon. Not to mention Bant.”

“Thank you I do.” Yoda pulled himself up with a Force boost to perch on the armrest of the couch. “Tell Bant you can, doing well he is. Let his friends know she can? Not sure who to call I was.”

“We can,” Tahl confirmed. “Bant is on her way home and can sit with him tomorrow.”

“Good. Awake then he should be, part of time at least.”

Tahl reached out and Yoda took her hand.

“Tell me, Master. Is that _really_ Master Silvanus?”

“She found me out. I’m really a Wookie with laryngitis.”

Quinlan stifled a laugh.

Yoda tossed his hand and Force-smacked Si. “Smartass you are. Si you must be.” He turned to Tahl. “More to tell Bant about Obi-Wan. Injured and sick, but getting better is. Contagious not. Sleep today and tonight, less sleep will need tomorrow. Better he is getting, but very tired will be. Quiet time with friends, good that will be.”

“I’ll let Bant know. I think Reeft may be in Temple, but Garen was stationed with the Space Corp and I don’t know about Siri.”

“Tachi on mission is. Not sure if still speaking they are.”

“Don’t worry, Master Yoda, Bant will know.” Tahl held his hand gently between her own. “He’s home, he’s safe, he’s with people who care and he’s getting better.”

“Yes, tell Bant that you can.”

“I was telling _you_.”

“Ha,” Si sipped at his protein shake. “Good luck with that.”

“He really _is_ a smartass.”

Bes looked terribly amused.

Another knock at the door revealed a healer coming by to check in. Yoda scrambled off the couch and when the healer asked for a little muscle, Quinlan trailed behind.

The healer had Quin pull Obi-Wan into a sitting position so she could listen to his lungs and check his bruises. The lungs were clear but she frowned when she saw the colors decorating his back, chest and arms.

“Has someone been giving this patient additional doses of Force healing?” she asked, peering at Yoda suspiciously.

“Sleeping on bruises uncomfortable is.”

“Letting the body heal at its own pace is healthy, particularly when there are this many and the patient is not conscious of the pain.” She turned to Yoda. “I know it’s hard to see him like that, but he _will_ heal. If the bruises prevent sleeping later, we have medication for that. Let him do it.”

Yoda’s ears turned down at the gentle scolding. The healer had Quinlan redress Obi-Wan and lay him back down, then probed his stomach gently. “Hmm, the pathogen is mostly gone, but I’m going to give him one more dose of Stomach Coat, then use the nasogastric tube to start giving him some food. He feels starved, even with the nutrients in his drip.” She looked over the chart. “You also want a midi-chlorian count every two hours?”

“Part of study he is,” Yoda kept his face neutral. “Tracking during illness Healer Mendl is.”

“Okay,” the healer looked dubious but programmed it into the blood analyzer before drawing a sample. “Maybe that will give you incentive to _knock off_ the Force healing so you don’t skew the data.” She thanked Quinlan as the tests were running, then shooed them both out so she could deal with the tubes in sensitive areas.

When Yoda came back in Si and Quinlan were going over the volunteer list again.

“Master,” Si leaned down to give Yoda a hand up onto the couch. “The volunteer slots are filling in nicely. Several knights and the venerable Master Tahl can stay until dinner hour, several of the neighbors are bringing food later, Gi-Ho volunteered to come by this evening and Brother Ospen is sending some monks and nuns tonight and in the early morning.”

Yoda breathed a sigh of relief. “Stay home he can.”

“And _you_ can sleep. No staying up all night.”

“Hmm, sleep I _should_ ,” Yoda conceded. “Need me tomorrow he will.”

Si gave Bes a long-suffering look. Bes laughed.

* * *

The rest of the afternoon went quietly. Just before dinner hour Eller came by to bring Master Yoda back for the evening session. The Council had opted to convene early and get it done, not wanting to keep Yoda away long, nor to keep Eller late. Vigils were a strong Jedi tradition and while Council business would not be cancelled, it could certainly be rescheduled.

Kani and Jitters came with two pots of stew and rolls and began setting it up in a heating pan to keep warm for several hours. Gi-Ho arrived soon after with light snacks.

“Master Si,” he kept his voice low. “It’s so good to see you.” He gave the elderly master a light hug.

“Good to see you too.”

“We need to get together more often, not just in a crisis.” He frowned as a healer let himself in and headed to the bedroom to do the scheduled checks. “How’s the kid?”

Si crossed his arms under his sleeves. Gi-Ho pretended not to notice.

“He seems to be improving slowly. Dodged a blaster bolt in that his friends found him before it got very bad. Yoda thinks he’ll be embarrassed over it, but health-wise the healers think he’ll be back to field ready in a week or two, at least physically.

“That’s a relief.”

Si looked at the chrono, surprised to see it was in fact almost dinner hour. “As wonderful as seeing you has been, Bes and I should probably get home for dinner.”

Gi-Ho put a hand on his shoulder. “I understand. Will you be back later? It sounded as if they expected a light vigil for the next few days. Or we could get lunch sometime.”

“Um,” he hadn’t considered whether he would come back. Not that he had anything on his schedule beyond the usual physical and occupational therapy, and poor Brother Artin helping with whatever his hands couldn’t do anymore. “I don’t know. It depends on how tired I am later.”

“Of course.”

Si stood and then offered Bes a Force-augmented arm to help him out of his chair. They said their goodbyes, leaving the duckling in the care of Gi-Ho, Tahl and the young knights who were setting up more food. Quietly they got back onto their scooters and headed toward the lifts. Bes waved at a few of the knights they passed who had stopped in and out throughout the day.

“We could have stayed longer if you wanted,” Bes said as they entered the lift.

“Brother Ospen would have my hide if I didn’t get us back on time for evening pills.” Si glanced down at his hands which were shaking slightly more vigorously than usual. “Not to mention I will be quite helpless soon if I miss my dose.” He seemed relieved to be going home and felt much older than he had this morning. Bes knew Si found his condition aggravating but had never heard him use the word ‘helpless’ to describe himself before. Si always compensated so well with the Force, but even with his great talents, it must be exhausting. He couldn’t remember Si steadying his hands so many times in one day. Force knew how he had managed to dress himself in formal tunics. He wondered if it wasn’t age that kept Si confined to the home so much as logistics.

“Are you okay to steer the scooter?” Bes asked, concerned.

“Yes.” When he was holding the handle bars the tremor was barely noticeable. “It always gets worse this time of day. That’s why I take dinner late. Let’s the dose kick in.”

They left the Knight’s Tower. Bes used his card again, but the current guard on duty waved Si through, then beckoned them over. When they approached, she handed Si a new temporary ID card.

“Battlemaster Drallig brought that over for you. He told me to tell you to come get an updated pic for it _before_ it expires, please.” 

Very carefully, Si grasped the card and tucked it into a belt pocket. “Thank you.” He tried not to think about how old his on-file photo was. They moved toward the pavilion.

Bes grinned. “It will be good for you to get out more. Maybe you could go to _Yoda’s_ salon sometime.”

Si sighed. His hands were never going to get better but going out and seeing people had been . . . nice. There were awkward moments, yes, but nothing horrible had happened. And he had actually felt _useful_ again. “That . . . that could be good.”

Bes could tell Si was either deep in thought or concentrating on steering the scooter, so he kept silent the rest of the way back.

They reached the reception area just as the chimes rang to announce seating was open for dinner hour and Sister Nellise would be passing out evening pills. Bes signed in both of them and their scooters, unsurprised when Si hurried in toward his room to get his pills. The trembling was noticeable even through his sleeves. He was surprised several minutes later to turn down the hall to his room to find Si waiting for him outside his door.

Si frowned at Bes’s astonished look. “I just wanted to thank you for your help today, Bes. I honestly would have given up before I arrived and,” he paused. “And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Bes looked at Si. He had always looked up to him, had always been impressed, even inspired by how he had dealt with his disability over the decades, particularly after his own injuries. He remembered how frightening it had been to try to walk on feet that weren’t his own, or to sign out a scooter for the first time and depend on it to take him where he needed to go. Si was still quite mobile, but there were no scooters to help him write things, brush his teeth, push buttons or make tea. He wondered how much of Si’s gruffness was loneliness or feeling helpless.

“You don’t have to thank me, Si. We’re Jedi. We help each other.”

Si bowed his head. “Nevertheless, I want you to know you are appreciated.” He looked at his feet. “I know Kiffar give small works of art to show thanks, but . . . I can’t do that anymore. I wanted you to know I would if I could, and if there is anything I can do, to let me know.”

Bes tried not to think about how much that last line sounded like dialogue in his adolescent fantasies. “You don’t have to do anything.”

Si nodded, face grim, and Bes wondered if perhaps he had heard it as ‘you can’t do anything.’

“You needed the help, but I would have gone with you, even if you didn’t. And with your new card, you’ll be zipping around soon, and you won’t need to worry about forms.”

“Yes, perhaps.” Si looked a little overwhelmed at the idea of going out again by himself. “I also wanted to thank you for being so supportive of Master Yoda. I apologize for his rude behavior; he was quite upset.”

Bes looked at Si, puzzled. “Rude behavior?”

Si seemed uncomfortable. “Master Yoda is usually more formal around his Kiffar friends. It was very kind of you to hold his hand. I know most Kiffar find _me_ irritating, so I imagine having to touch Master was more so.”

“Oh,” Bes couldn’t help but think back to his earlier conversation with Quinlan. “It’s alright, I actually don’t find Yoda irritating. A bit intense, but not irritating. Quinlan might, he’s hyperpsychometric, but mine is more moderate.” He shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve held Yoda’s hand, but he was definitely upset, poor dear.”

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t in pain.”

Bes frowned. “You think Kiffar find you irritating?”

“Many people find me irritating, I’m a grouch. But yes, several psychometric persons have found me irritating, including Kiffar, and have told me so.” He crossed his arms, but Bes could tell he must have taken his pill because his hands were trembling less than they had on the way back. “I try to be polite about it.”

Bes realized Si had always offered him a sleeved arm rather than a hand up. He had thought it was because of the tremor, but just that afternoon Si had pulled Yoda up by the hand several times, and from driving the scooter it was clear he still had grip strength if he could manage to grab what he was aiming for.

“You don’t have to be _that_ polite, Si. You’re very strong in the Force, but I don’t find you irritating.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “You always seemed to during saber workshops. Fortunately, you took verbal directions well, so I didn’t have to correct your form much. I knew I made you uncomfortable, but,” he shrugged. “Making sure you had the skills to keep yourself alive was more important.”

“You remember me as your student?” Bes was torn between being pleased and mortified.

“Of course. Your master and I spent a lot of time trying to decide what forms to recommend for you. You were a puzzling one, your skills pushed one way, your personality the other. We settled on Niman eventually, but it could have gone several ways. Also, it seemed to suit you by accommodating your academic pursuits.”

“Oh,” Bes frowned. “I thought it was because I was a terrible swordsman.”

“You weren’t terrible. You were much better at blocking blaster bolts than outright dueling, which would argue for Shien or Soresu, and at the risk of sounding insensitive, your footwork was always very good, you could grasp subtleties the other students missed, which would argue for Makashi, but it’s use is limited outside of saber dueling, and frankly I didn’t want you to have to drill with Yan. He’s an obnoxious prick. Furthermore, you were and still are, too kind. I was afraid if we put you on Soresu, you’d master it just fine, but never take an opening and get yourself killed. Niman seemed a good balance for you, both offense and defense. I hope it served you well.”

“It did. I just thought you recommended it because I wasn’t very good at saberwork.”

“No, your saberwork was fine.” Si shrugged. “If you had been Temple-bound I would have gone with Makashi, then offered you tutoring on the side so you could have wiped that smug grin off Yan’s face once in a while. He mastered Form II but defended against it badly. If you had been less academic or were sent into hotter conflicts I’d have recommended Shien. Niman _is_ easier to master, but it’s not a lesser form, and it serves some needs better than others. Yoda’s duckling would stagnate in it yes, but he’s exceptional. You were very good, but your personality and career path pushed you toward Niman, not your ability.”

“Oh.”

"If this was bothering you, you certainly could have asked sooner.” Si looked embarrassed. “But I know I used to be intimidating at times.”

Bes remembered the guard’s face when Si lifted the caff and bit back a giggle. Si could still be quite intimidating if he needed to be. “It didn’t bother me. I just didn’t know the reasoning.” He frowned. “Drilling with Yan Dooku does sound like a tortuous experience.”

“He’s supercilious and very vocal about it. There were several students I directed away from Makashi so they wouldn’t get ground down under his arrogant posturing.” He frowned. “I should talk to Cin about that. He might want to start pushing Form II more due to recent events.” Si looked Bes in the eye. “Well, it’s good to know you didn’t find me _physically_ irritating. Thank you again, Bes.” He nodded and began to walk away.

Bes noticed for the first time that Si hadn’t been using his walking staff all day, which distracted him a moment from the fact that Si was leaving. “I don’t find you irritating, Si. Not physically and not, um, personally.”

Si stopped and turned back, eyebrow raised. The dinner chime rang, signaling the meal was being served. “Thank you, Bes. You had best get on to dinner.”

“Let me know tomorrow if you don’t want to go back alone,” Bes smiled hopefully.

Si got that slightly overwhelmed look again. “I’ll let you know.” With a nod, he retreated to his room, his long robe swirling elegantly around his tall frame like it used to when he was still the Battlemaster and stalking through the halls of the Main Temple.

Bes slipped into his room and sat down heavily in his favorite chair.

“Stupid old Kiffar. Sixty years and he thought you found him _irritating_?” He took a deep, calming breath, then let it out slowly. “Damn.”

* * *

Kressa returned to Kenobi’s apartment just after dinner hour to find Master Tahl and Gi-Ho holding down the fort and a young Dreselian, not Kecklan, enjoying a hearty bowl of Kani’s stew. There was also a new large platter of fruits and cheese, so despite his specie’s reputation for fast metabolisms, they were still ahead on food.

Gi-Ho asked how she was doing with Niman (well, but Vos was still kicking her ass), and whether she had had a chance to meet Master Silvanus while he had been there (yes, briefly).

“If he comes back later, you should ask if he could demonstrate Breggle with Yoda. It will give Yoda something else to think about and those two are amazing to watch. Or just ask about telekinesis and Niman. Master Bes could probably give you some good tips too. That was his form.”

“Really?” Kressa frowned. “He said he was a terrible duelist.”

“Bah,” Gi-Ho scoffed. “He was fine, but he was a diplomat. Most of his opponents in the field didn’t have a lightsaber. His great trick was redirecting ricochet. Made a lot of friends by patching up former enemies who thought they had shot themselves. Also took Master Silvanus’ Pebble Lecture to heart.”

“Pebble Lecture?”

“Oh, that one is a classic.” He tried to speak in a deep, rough voice. “You can kill your adversary with a pebble. You can maim your adversary with a pebble. You can disarm your adversary with a pebble. You can distract your adversary with a pebble. It all depends on how you use it.”

Tahl chuckled. “The imitation was terrible, but the lecture was verbatim.”

The Dreselian put down his stew, then stood up and offered his hand. “I’m Reeft. Creche-mate of Obi-Wan’s.”

“Kressa,” she took his hand. “One of the neighbors. I think I’ve seen you on the friend wall.”

“Yes, that’s me, the little Dreselian. I think I saw you on there too.”

“Do you know about the art print?” Master Gi-Ho asked. “We’ve been debating about it.”

Kressa grinned. “Yes, it’s Master Yoda. No, you’re not the only one to think it is or isn’t him.”

“That is so weird,” Reeft said, looking at the print again. Gi-Ho looked smug.

Tahl rolled her blind eyes. “They didn’t trust me to settle the debate. Can’t imagine why.”

Kressa checked the tea. The pot was nearly empty and had gone cold. She brought it back to the kitchen and set about making a fresh pot before she fixed herself a bowl of stew and rejoined the others.

“Is Master Yoda coming back?” she asked. “We have coverage for most of the night, but it sounded like he wanted to stay.”

“He’ll be back,” Tahl reassured her. “Eller said the Council Meeting would take a few hours, and he was going to stop home and freshen up, maybe take a nap.”

“Any news about Obi-Wan? Can I put his clean laundry in his room?”

Reeft laughed. “I knocked over the metal lid for the heating tray. Didn’t flinch. You could put a jizz-wail band in his room, he’s not going to wake up.”

“Stew’s good. I’ll have to get Kani’s recipe.”

“Very good,” Reeft agreed.

There was a quiet knock on the door and a tall, well-built blond man poked in his head. “Is this the vigil?”

“Garen,” Reeft stood up and met Garen just inside the door, hugging him tight. “When did you get here?”

“Um, a little while ago. I was supposed to come to Coruscant in two days for a seminar and workshop. Bant commed me and I was able to switch shifts and come sooner. The lamp is yellow. Is Obi going to be okay?”

“The healers think so,” Reeft patted him on the back. “Master Yoda put a sleep compulsion on him, so he won’t wake up for a while, but the healers have been tracking him since this morning and he’s getting better. No signs of organ dysfunction and his numbers are getting better.”

“Good, good.” Garen stepped away from Reeft who led him to the dim bedroom.

“Come on, Garen. Let’s check on Obi and then get you some food.” The two young men crept silently into the twilight of the sick room, murmuring to each other.

“That’s Garen Muln,” Tahl explained. “Another childhood friend. Knighted a few years ago. In the Space Corps now.”

“I don’t recall Obi-Wan mentioning him, but I think he might be on the wall.”

“Almost certainly,” Tahl agreed.

“Good to see he still has his old friends,” Gi-Ho commented.

The two young men spoke quietly together in the bedroom. Muln was sitting in the desk chair, visibly upset at how pale and worn-down Obi-Wan looked (though he had been imagining a much more dire vigil) and Reeft was standing behind him, hand on his shoulder, offering comfort.

Kressa finished her stew, then set up a few of the folding chairs Stores had sent (though none of them had thought to ask). Vigils tended to get a bit busy right after dinner as people with daytime commitments stopped by to check in.

After a few minutes, Garen and Reeft came back out and rejoined the group. “It was a stomach bug then?” Garen asked. “I was able to check his flight logs on the way over and he looked like shit.”

“Yes,” Kressa confirmed. “Nasty, but not very contagious. The healers said he could have gone septic if it spread, but it was caught in time so he should be okay.”

“His _neighbors_ caught it in time,” Gi-Ho corrected, nodding at Kressa.

“It was a team effort.”

Garen took Kressa’s hand in both of his own. “Thank you.” He sat down in one of the folding chairs. “So, Obi finally got knighted? When did _that_ happen?”

Reeft rolled his eyes. “A year and a half ago? A little more?”

“Several months after Naboo,” Tahl sipped her tea and scanned the fruit platter with the Force.

“Who is Naboo?” Garen asked.

Reeft gave a long-suffering sigh. “Do you ignore _all_ of Bant’s letters? Sheesh, Garen. _Naboo_. Big Trade Federation fiasco. Master Jinn almost died. It was all over the holonews for weeks!”

“Oh, _oh_! Bant said something about Master Qui-Gon getting injured and Obi-Wan taking care of him. I didn’t realize it was during the conflict.”

“Which seminar are you here to take?” Gi-Ho asked.

“ _Changing Tactics for New Challenges in the Field._ ” He made a face. “Master Rhara made me. She took it last session. Said it will be good for me.”

“We tried to keep the name innocuous sounding, but yes, it’s rather important,” Gi-Ho said. “Thought I remembered your name from the roster.”

“You get Qui-Gon to take that yet?” Tahl asked.

“We wanted to run it a few times before we invited him to participate.”

“Speaking of Master Qui-Gon,” Garen sounded uncharacteristically timid. “Is there a reason we weren’t telling him about the vigil?”

Tahl and Reeft froze.

“Garen Muln?” Tahl’s voice was stern. “ _What did you do_?”

Kressa looked up in alarm as the blond giant of a man blushed scarlet. “I, um, went to Master Qui-Gon’s quarters first because I thought the vigil was there, and he didn’t know what I was talking about when he answered the door.”

“Garen!” Reeft sounded exasperated. Tahl rested her head in his hand.

“Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are not on speaking terms right now,” Tahl sighed. “We weren’t keeping the vigil secret, but Qui-Gon isn’t exactly welcome here.”

“Seriously, Garen,” Reeft took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “How the Sith Hell did you miss that? I know you don’t live here on Coruscant, but it was a _very_ big deal.”

Garen shrugged. “Bant writes to me about how everyone is doing, but I kind of skim over it sometimes, especially about Obi-Wan. I didn’t think Master Qui-Gon would _ever_ send him to his trials, and after a while it was just too depressing to think about.”

“So, you missed the part where he was knighted and moved to the Knight’s Tower?” Reeft asked and Garen nodded. “Because Bant asked us to send him flat pics for his bare and lonely walls.”

Garen glanced at the friend wall. “Missed that.” He frowned. “That’s a really odd choice for a framed art print.” He looked up at Reeft, then Tahl. “And when did he move? I honestly didn’t think Master Qui-Gon would _ever_ let him move out, even if he did pass his trials.”

Reeft looked around the room, then stood up and gestured for Garen to follow. “Come on. Let’s make up some cold tea and I’ll catch you up, so you know why Master Qui-Gon isn’t here and why Obi-Wan has a print of Master Yoda on his friend wall.” He glanced at the print as he passed. “So _weird_.”

Garen reluctantly followed. “Wait, that’s _Master Yoda_?”

“I should have made a bet with him,” Gi-Ho shook his head. “Master Silvanus had a painting of Yoda in his office from when he had more hair. I think it’s the hair throwing everyone off track.”

“How much hair did he have?” Tahl asked.

“A lot,” Kressa replied. “ _Holo-star_ hair.”

Gi-Ho laughed. “His hairline used to frame his face and he grew it long, halfway down his back. Dark color too. Longer than Yaddle’s and very thick.”

Tahl laughed, trying to imagine.

“Carlin’s right, he looks like a holo-film action star, a bit of swagger in the pose. His hair is pulled back from his face, not unlike Master Jinn.”

Tahl laughed harder. “Qui-Gon said he didn’t recognize Yoda in the print either.”

Gi-Ho snickered. “We sometimes show old clips for training purposes. We have a few of Master Dooku and Master Jinn when he was a padawan. Between the padawan hair and the straight nose, most of the students have a hard time believing that’s really him.”

Tahl smiled. “I can imagine. One of the archivists I work with was captioning and indexing images and vid clips. Wasn’t human, had to get confirmation on Qui-Gon because she thought he was _born_ with his nose like that.”

Gi-Ho laughed quietly.

“Force, Master Silvanus sounded exactly the same.”

“Oh, I know,” Gi-Ho agreed. “He almost _looked_ the same too. A little thinner, more white in his hair, moved a little slower, but if you just came across him sitting on this couch you would think he’s just back from the salle or a field mission.” He sipped his tea. “Archives came to see us after he retired because they wanted to index clips and it was such a _bitch_ to do it, because the best guess you could make by looking was to round it down to, oh, a quarter century.” Gi-Ho shook his head. “We spent days making our best guesses by his hair color, who else was in the clips, were they knights or padawans, what adaptive devices Master Si was wearing if he was wearing any. Finally, we just called him, he was still living in the Master’s Tower back then. He called us all morons and told us the dates were embedded in the files and he had left notes on his extensive clip library, so it could be used for training purposes.” Gi-Ho shrugged. “Oops.”

Tahl laughed. Hard. “How did Archives miss _that_?”

“He was still using the old format. The new format didn’t open the embedded info the same way. He was almost ninety when he retired completely, he wasn’t about to convert everything at that age.”

“He’s really one-hundred-and-five? Master Bes wasn’t joking?” Kressa asked.

“He really is,” Gi-Ho confirmed. “Cin’s trying to get him to consult with us again. I still can’t believe he left the home. Haven’t seen him in years.”

“He seemed nice.”

“He is, if you get past the gruff exterior. He was worried about Master Yoda, so more of the gooey center was on display than usual.”

Master Tahl tried to deepen her voice. “I don’t _have_ a gooey center, Gi-Ho. Just a core of scrap metal for when I need to spit nails.”

Gi-Ho managed to stay quiet but laughed so hard he fell over sideways onto the armrest of the couch. “Oh, Force. I forgot about that one.” He looked at Kressa and giggled again. “No one can ever get the voice right, but he did say that.”

Tahl took a sip of tea to clear her throat. “He came to visit me after I was blinded. Brought me some audiofiles about adapting hand-to-hand fighting and saberwork with visual impairment. Said he didn’t want me to not be able to defend myself.” She frowned. “I don’t think I ever met up with him again until today. His hands were getting worse and the adaptive devices stopped working.”

“He became very isolated when he couldn’t type anymore,” Gi-Ho explained. “Speech recognition programs have trouble understanding his voice and he can still type telekinetically, but that gets tiring.”

“Maybe Jitters could help,” Kressa suggested. “He’s an engineer and works to adapt standard devices for Force users. Maybe he could make an easier to use keyboard or knows someone who works on speech algorithms.”

Tahl poked Gi-Ho. “From the mouths of babes.”

Kressa smiled. “He’ll be back tomorrow if you want to ask or want me to.”

Gi-Ho sat back, thinking it over. “Let’s see what your friend thinks before we ask Master Silvanus. He tried a _lot_ of different devices, but eventually they all stopped helping. I don’t want to bother him unless there is actually something new available.”

“Fair enough.”

The rest of the evening was quiet. Master Tahl said her goodbyes and assured Garen that she would smooth over his faux pas. Master Gi-Ho left (he had class in the morning) and Garen and Reeft spoke quietly, catching up on less charged topics and telling Kressa stories from their younger days with Obi-Wan.

“I really haven’t been a good friend,” Garen confessed. “I feel like we left him behind.”

“We didn’t mean to,” Reeft explained. “We were just so busy learning how to be new knights and I know _I_ expected Obi-Wan would join us soon, but . . . he didn’t.” Reeft looked down at his hands. “I think he was embarrassed about it too. He started his apprenticeship late, so we expected an extra year, but then he _still_ wasn’t knighted. We weren’t good about keeping in touch and Master Qui-Gon wasn’t exactly permissive. And they were always on missions, more than we were with our masters. It was too easy to lose touch.”

“Bant kept up with him,” Garen sighed.

“Bant was Master Tahl’s padawan. Master Qui-Gon could get weird about who Obi-Wan’s friends were. Usually he didn’t have a problem with us, but he got much stricter after we were knighted.”

Garen laughed ruefully. “You know how new knights get. Wild, crazy, with their own _private_ quarters. Who knows what trouble we could be getting his padawan into?”

Reeft rolled his eyes. “We wouldn’t have done anything that bad. We knew how hard Obi-Wan worked. We knew Master Jinn was worried because of his _last_ apprentice. I just wish he could have treated Obi-Wan as if he _didn’t_ expect him to turn to the Dark Side if he had a little fun.”

“How is he doing now?” Garen asked Kressa. “Other than the puking and the delirium?”

“Um,” Kressa thought over what she knew about Obi-Wan. “He’s very dedicated to his studies. He socializes a little more now than he did when he first moved in. He’s good to work with on missions, he worked the Aldera Biennial Summit with Quin and me. I don’t think he’s been dating anyone, but he’s private, so we may just not know.” She frowned. “He doesn’t get many visitors. Bant comes by sometimes, and Master Yoda a few times.”

Garen and Reeft shared a look. Garen sighed and hung his head. “He’s hanging out with Yoda? I _have_ been a bad friend.”

Reeft patted him on the back. “You don’t live on Coruscant, much less in the Temple. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Garen.”

“He actually seems to enjoy Master Yoda’s company,” Kressa shrugged. “Quin said Master Yoda is a riot.”

“Bant said Master Yoda stepped into the master role when Master Jinn, um, stepped out of it.”’ Reeft looked at Kressa. “You’re probably right, Master Jinn could be a hard man to deal with, much less live with. Yoda was more of a grandmaster to Obi-Wan than Master Dooku ever was. He offered him a safe refuge when he wasn’t getting along with Master Jinn.”

“Well, Master Yoda was very upset over Obi-Wan’s illness. His friends said he thinks of Obi-Wan as a padawan.”

As if summoned, the door opened and Master Yoda came in on his hoverchair, followed by a docent carrying a box.

“Change has there been?” he asked Kressa.

“Nothing since the last check in, Master Yoda. The healers said he was doing okay and seemed to be absorbing the nutrients better. Oh, and the fever is finally gone.”

“Good to hear that is.” He nodded at Garen and Reeft, directed the docent to leave the box, then went to the sick room, not satisfied until he had confirmed the report himself. Garen watched, surprised as the tiny master hopped up into the desk chair, then began scanning Obi-Wan with the Force. He wondered what Master Qui-Gon would have done if he had known.

While Yoda continued his examination, someone knocked on the door. Kressa got up to answer it and found a very tall, broad person cloaked in dark brown, a deep hood hiding their face. “Can I help you?”

The person bowed before speaking, barely over a whisper. “Greetings to you, Noble Traveler. May the Force bless you on your path. I have come for the vigil.”

“Um, okay,” Kressa backed up to let whoever this was in. “How do you know Knight Kenobi?”

“I have not had the privilege of meeting Traveler Kenobi before.” The person tipped back their hood to reveal a humanoid of indeterminate species, probably male, with close-cropped hair and very pale eyes. “Brother Ospen has sent me to assist the Grandmaster.”

Yoda appeared at the bedroom door. “Brother Artin, good to see you it is.”

The monk bowed his head. “Greetings to you Grandmaster. I do hope I can be of assistance in this trying time.”

“Come in. Introduce you to patient I will. Then share food we can.” The monk nodded his thanks to Kressa, then followed Yoda into Obi-Wan’s room.

“Traveler?” Kressa wondered aloud.

“It’s the traditional term monks and nuns use for Jedi Knights and Masters in formal greetings,” Reeft explained. “Historically the monks would stay in Temple and the Knights would go out into the galaxy.”

The sounds of quiet singing came from the bedroom. A feeling of calm seeped out, similar to when Master Yoda had been meditating with Master Silvanus. The song, probably a hymn or prayer, ended and both Yoda and Brother Artin rejoined the group.

“Thank you all for coming I do,” Yoda nodded at Kressa. “Better he is doing. Wake up overnight he should, but weak will be.”

“I can help if I am still here, Grandmaster.”

“Yes, used to helping infirm you are, Brother. Come, food there is. Join us you may.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster.” The monk bowed again, then walked to the food, preparing a bowl for both himself and Yoda. Kressa offered tea. Garen and Reeft made a point of thanking Master Yoda for taking care of their friend.

“If time you have, visit tomorrow do. Miss you both he has.”

Garen looked stricken. “I’m sorry, Master Yoda. I know I should have made more time.”

“Yes, Knight Muln. So strong in Force you are, more hours in day you must have?” He shook his head. “Young knight you are. Hard to keep up with old friends it is. Hard life is. Hard to be Jedi is. Scold you I do not. Telling you if opportunity have now, take it you should. Take care of each other we must. That’s why vigils we have. Waste time not blaming self. Just now better do. Call you Obi-Wan has not either.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Garen sipped his tea. “I’m here for a few days for a seminar anyway.”

“With Drallig?”

“Yes, something about new threats?”

“Good for you that will be.” He turned to Kressa. “Sign up Vos has?”

“Quinlan? I don’t think so. You think he should?”

“Cover rumors of Sith.” He looked at Kress for a moment. “Know you do that rumor it is not. Work in Outer Rim you do, far from Temple. Far from Republic. Prepared for new dangers you must be.”

“Huh,” Garen looked surprised. “Did Obi-Wan take this class yet?”

Reeft shook his head and sighed; clearly, he hadn’t gone back far enough when catching up Garen.

“Learned in field he did.” Yoda turned to Brother Artin. “Get home safe Si and Bes did?”

“Quite safe, Grandmaster, though several of the staff and residents were rather worried. Master Bes is quite independent, but Sister Nellise was very concerned about Master Si. There were many prayers and pleas to the Force.”

“Concerned you were not.”

“No,” the monk smiled. “I supervise his physical therapy. He’s still quite strong and active. His hands make things difficult, but he certainly could have walked this far and back several times over. He’s not as frail as many of the residents.”

“Know this I do.”

“Yes,” Brother Artin chuckled. “I’m sure you do.” His face grew serious. “With respect, Grandmaster, your visits help keep him spry.”

“Still my padawan he is.”

“Of course.” Brother Artin sipped at his tea. “He made it home on time for late dinner. He was tired and needed a little help eating, but overall, I think it was good for him to get out. Master Bes said he hoped they would be back tomorrow, but with Master Si I can’t tell. It took a lot out of him emotionally to make the trip.”

“Good man he is. Leave master alone he would not.” Yoda sighed. “Hopefully come back he will. Still many good things to see, to do. Too easy it is to stay home and stop living when old you get.”

“You gave him a good reason, Grandmaster.”

The hour began to grow late. Kressa left to go home. Garen and Reeft put away the rest of the stew and washed the serving dishes for Kani before they also left, Garen opting to bunk with Reeft rather than brave the barracks. Yoda settled down to doze, and Brother Artin went to the sickroom, watching over his charge to let Yoda rest. A healer came in briefly to do the usual checks, assured the monk all was well, and left them in silence. After a few hours Quinlan Vos quietly slipped in to help keep watch. Yoda opened his eyes when he sat down on the other end of the couch.

“Sorry,” Quin whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Wake me you did not. Dozing lightly I was.” Yoda stretched, then got up and went to the sick room, sending Brother Artin to stretch his legs and refresh himself. Quin peered into the room. The nightlight was still on but was directed down to the floor and someone had turned on a holographic star projection. Obi-Wan was still sleeping but when Yoda entered the room his head turned slightly in the master’s direction.

Brother Artin came into the common room and nodded at Quinlan, a bit stiff for bowing. “Greetings Noble Traveler. I’m Brother Artin.” He went to the least crowded corner and began a stretching routine.

“Quinlan Vos.” He looked the monk over. “Nice to meet you. Master Bes has talked about you. Says you keep him in shape.”

Artin smiled. “Master Bes keeps himself in shape. I merely encourage him. And count reps.” He bent down to touch his toes. “Master Bes speaks of you as well. I’m glad he has young friends who give him a reason to get out in the world. It’s helped him get more independent.”

Quin looked back into the sick room. Yoda was sitting next to the bed, reading quietly out of large book, as if Obi-Wan were still a youngling needing a bedtime story. Brother Artin looked in as well but did not seem concerned, feeling only comfort and peace coming from the room.

“Your friend should wake up in a few more hours. Sometimes patients under a sleep compulsion fall into REM sleep when they start to wake up and have bad dreams. That’s why the Grandmaster and I have been trying to maintain a calm oasis in the Force.”

“Based on the bruising, he probably has plenty of bad dream material.”

“Yes, I saw,” Brother Artin’s tone was serious. “The Grandmaster said he was not violated?”

“The healers think he escaped before they could.”

“Thank the Force,” Brother Artin finished his routine, then served himself some cold tea from the carafe. “And thank you also for joining us. It is too easy to fall asleep if there is only one.”

“We’re Jedi, we take care of each other.”

The monk smiled. “We do.”

In the sick room, Yoda turned the pages of Obi-Wan’s large illuminated book, reading some selections out loud and commenting on the illustrations.

“ _The Saga of Master Girden and the Clans of Kestel_. Long one that is. Knew him I did, when old he was. Great storyteller he was. Tell you that did I? Many adventures he had in Outer Rim, visited many worlds did he. Always getting shot at. Had to learn Soresu, like you are now. To keep mouth shut should have learned instead. Shot at less would have been.” He looked over the illustrations. “Checked your sources you did. Bad likeness that is not. Saber color correct is.” Yoda peered closer. “Yes, big nose he had. Went with big mouth it did.” He chuckled quietly. “Good Jedi he was, but long time it took.” He sighed. “Other stories about him, tell you I can later, when awake you are.”

He turned another page. “Ah, _The Adages of Master Nehi_. Remember him I do too. OId he was when padawan I was. Even less hair than I have. Very kind. Very wise. Told me he did to go out into galaxy until ready I was to be Jedi. Figure out who I was. Grow and get strong. Use what I had learned. Probably did not expect bad words for me to learn too.” Yoda ran a finger over the elaborate letters that spelled out the master’s name and formed the frame around the illustration. “Missed Brother Bodan he did too. Taught Brother Bodan when youngling he was. Would have been his master if healthy Brother Bodan had been.”

He turned the pages until he came to _The Story of Brother Bodan_. He paused to look at the text, admiring the letters but not reading the words, before turning to Obi-Wan. “Sad one for me this is. Skip this one I will. Know about Brother Bodan and Little Bird you do already.”

He looked down at the first page and could feel from the book how carefully this long poem had been transcribed and illustrated, as if this work in particular had spoken to Obi-Wan. “Maybe look at pictures will? Illustrate hard parts did you?” Obi-Wan did not respond, so Yoda opened himself to the Force, feeling it urge him to look. “See if draw Brother Bodan well you did? Source images hard to find would be.”

The first page was all text, only the first letters decorated. He turned the page to find the full-page color illustration showing small children playing with simple, non-mechanical toys still used in the creche today in front of a meadow of grass nearly as tall as they were. The clothing was simple, rough-woven and typical of the historical era for both Jedi and the poor. One child was playing with a ball, another two with marbles, a few more with dolls dressed as monks or knights or farmers, the last doing saber drills with a stick. Above them the sun shone brightly, and birds flew overhead. It gave no hint of the trials to come, only of the joy they had had. “Very nice picture. Happy children they had there, many years.” He turned the page, avoiding the text he had taken pains not to memorize. There was a smaller illustration on the next page, showing a stone wall with a large window set in it, revealing the same grassy field and a starscape in the night sky above. A long, white feather rested on the windowsill. “Very nice picture also.” The stone blocks that made up the wall in the picture were carefully rendered, the mortar between each stone colored separately.

Yoda shook his head. “Good imagination you have, but monastery made of duracrete was, stone not. Had to build fast, efficient. No stone quarry to use. Grow ivy monks did, make building look nice, cover in Living Force.” He smiled at the single, long white feather. “Feather for Little Bird? Actual bird he was not. Know that you would not, I know. Debate that scholars do.” He sighed. “Just ask they could have. Perhaps no fun that is.”

He moved to turn the page when the starscape caught his eye. The stars were not laid out evenly as one would expect, or as they were projected all around the room now. They were oddly clumpy, as if they were looking toward the galactic core where the stars clustered together thickly, as if the window were on a planet on the Inner Rim. A cold, shivery feeling came over Yoda. He had seen this starscape before.

Trembling, he reached for the controls of the star projector and changed the settings from the skies above Alderaan to the skies above a tiny, lifeless rock that had no name, only a serial number, after a turbulent solar storm destroyed any trace that anything had ever lived there. When the location reset, he turned it until the core came into view, then adjusted the date, scrolling back five, six, seven, eight hundred years, eyes never leaving the core as tiny lights winked out or sputtered back into existence. He looked back and forth, from book to projection to the image that had been carved deep into his memory. The galactic core. The center of the galaxy. And in the middle, the star with the rapidly growing city planet where the Jedi Temple was, where he and the other children had to go when the raiders attacked the monastery, so desperate to reach it before something else broke or the raiders caught them. The image had been burned into him so deep he had seen it for years every time he closed his eyes. And here it was, in Obi-Wan’s book, the outline of the mass of stars traced lightly in pencil before the night sky had been blended in watercolors, then the heavenly bodies picked out very carefully in iridescent glitter, each piece carefully laid out with the Force.

The name of the planet never appeared in the poem, it had never had one, only the serial number, the scientists knowing it would only be a short-lived outpost circling an aging star. The scholars debated that too.

An artist using an image of the galactic core would not be unusual, it figured strongly into the poem of course. It might even be reasonable to use an Inner Rim view, given the hints in the text about how long the journey took, the available technology and known space routes at that time in history. But the image was spot on, from the correct angle in three-dimensional space and the view as it would have looked then, not today. Even some of the largest stars, landmarks outside the core, were also accurately placed, as if the illustration had been made when the artist had been sitting at this window and drawn it from sight, not in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, eight centuries later. It should have been impossible. Without the Force it would have been. But Obi-Wan was a Jedi, and the Force flowed through him strongly.

“See this in your dreams you did?” He reached out and ran his fingers through the knight’s greasy, unwashed hair. “What else does the Force say to you, young one?” He looked back down at the image. The texture of the wall was wrong, but the shape of the window was familiar, not found in the children’s dormitories, but in the monk’s cells. Obi-Wan had openly wondered if he should have been a monk (not to mention Brother Ospen). Had he been one before?

Jedi did not seek out reincarnation, but Yoda was old enough to know the Force had its own will and not everything in his long life was a coincidence. “Met before have we, my not quite padawan? Or just dreams are these? So strongly the Force speaks to you sometimes, still learning all the ways you are.” Quietly, he closed the book. “Enough for now. Tell you story I will. Happy story, yes. No bad dreams tonight. To speak to you, Force can wait. Rest you need.” He began to tell a story he had told the younglings for many years, a lesson Obi-Wan had learned long ago, about listening to the Force, but not a story he had learned at a monk’s knee on a planet without a name.

Obi-Wan knew most of those stories already, at least in their modern forms.

The minutes continued to creep by. Yoda had returned the star projection to the night sky of Alderaan, then held Obi-Wan’s hand as he spoke, pleased to note it was neither feverish nor cold. Eventually Brother Artin came back in, sending Yoda back into the common room with Vos, before starting a watchful meditation.

“How is he?” Quinlan asked. 

“Sleeping less deeply. Rejoin us soon he will. Few more hours.”

“Kressa said some of his friends came by?”

“Old friends from creche, yes.”

“She also said Master Jinn found out about the vigil, but Master Tahl said she would handle it. Should we be worried?”

“Worry not. Privacy was issue. Always felt not measure up Obi-Wan did. Help and comfort Master Jinn would not offer. Criticism only. Good for healing this is not. No longer bond do they have, but secret was not. Come here he will not.”

Quin tried not to react to the news that Obi-Wan no longer had a bond with his former master. “Obi-Wan could have died.”

“Yes,” Yoda sighed. “Not always like now were they. Force brought them together did. Force not what drove them apart.”

“What did?”

“Fear.” Yoda turned and adjusted the throw pillow he had been leaning against. “Fear of being hurt. Fear of future. Fear of being left behind. Fear of mortality. Jedi teachings forgotten by scarred hearts.”

“Is Obi-Wan okay? He’s talked about having a therapist and Jitters said it was probably that healer who was talking to him.”

“Yes,” Yoda confirmed. “Vygor his therapist is. Much better now is, but one year therapy erase twelve years of doubts does not. Let fear rule reason his master did. Qui-Gon Jinn lost padawan to Dark Side. Refused to take padawan he did many times. Know this you might, not much older than Obi-Wan you are. Try did you to win Jinn as master when initiate you were?”

“I did, but I didn’t pin my hopes on it. He always made it clear he didn’t want another student.”

“When picked how old you were?”

“Just past eleven, I think.”

“Hmm, Force bring you together with Master?”

“I’ve always thought so.”

“Before taken as learner, think that might be with other masters?”

Quinlan shrugged. “There were other masters and knights who I thought might pick me, but I was selected before I really got desperate.”

“Other masters trained you might have. Like finding romantic partner or spouse is. Many possibilities, some better match might be than others, but only one good master rare is. Different possibilities, but only one outcome we see.”

“So, Obi-Wan was one of those with only one good master?”

“Heh, _no_. Short list but more than one there was. Other choices work out did not.” He sighed. “Si too old was. Not on list but would have been if younger. Hmmph, good for each other would have been.”

“Master Silvanus, who was here earlier?”

“Yes, Simet. Very gifted Obi-Wan is in saberwork. Needed master who keep up with him could, but also needed master who steady temper had. If Si still young, good master would have been. Drallig good would have been, but padawan already had. Bilaba too young, not enough experience then.” Yoda sighed. “Others there were too, not work out, or latch on to different student did. Force very clear, strong master he would need, for difficult challenges trained he must be. Good match it was in the Force. Deny that Qui-Gon could not. But fully commit, open heart he could not either. Left its mark it did.”

Quinlan frowned. “Bail Organa said the Jedi told him Obi-Wan was sent to the Agri-Corp.”

“Yes, sent he was.” Yoda looked away. “Sent to same planet Master Jinn was, just before thirteenth birthday. Force speaking strongly was. Listening Qui-Gon was not. Thought I did that listen he might if away from Temple.” The tiny master slumped a little in his seat. “Seemed to work it did. Take him as padawan learner he did. But open heart he would not. Expected unquestioned obedience when maverick he was. Expected loyalty and trust when give it he would not. Expected Obi-Wan to never hurt his heart when offer love, patience, care he did not. Still too afraid that betray him boy would, got better never did. Only worse.”

Yoda looked Quin in the eye. “Jinn’s last padawan fell to Dark Side just before trials did. Grave error in training, was error to take for training. Too old was, personality bad fit was for Jedi. See that Qui-Gon did not. With Obi-Wan, see flaws, short-comings only. Afraid to let Obi-Wan grow up, afraid Obi-Wan to send to trials was. Overcompensated he did, left with padawan felt always failing was. By time realized this I did, that open heart Qui-Gon never would, too late it was for other path to take.”

“What was the other path?”

Yoda looked into the sick room, staring at Obi-Wan on the bed, but memories played in his mind’s eye. “Take him as padawan I should have.”

Quinlan stared at the grandmaster, both surprised and not. “Why didn’t you?”

Yoda gave him a skeptical look. “Old man I am. On Council I am. Commitments I had made to Order. Ready to lead next Grandmaster definitely was _not_. Help train many or train just one?”

“So, if Master Jinn had still refused to take Obi-Wan as his padawan . . .”

“Screw Master Windu over I would have. Very clear Force was. Trained he must be.”

“And in the end, you prepared him for his trials, not Master Jinn. He talks about you as if you were his master.”

“Believed in him I did.” He sighed again. “Erase doubts I could not, but working through them himself he is.” Yoda stretched out his legs, then resettled his robes. “Still work through issues with Vygor. Most new knights to master can go. He cannot. Many mentors he has now, but hard to lose trusted master. Harder because still alive Jinn is, others see need not. So yes, doing well Obi-Wan is, but keep therapist for a while will to help feelings sort out, problems to talk through.” He leaned forward. “Like to bother me he does not. Something about Grandmaster I am being.”

Quinlan nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Sounds important.” He looked away, grimacing. “I know _I_ was nervous about bothering you about Obi-Wan being ill.”

“Told you, right thing you did. Good idea you had Eller to ask. Why there she is. Prioritize well she does. Very good gatekeeper is.”

“Yeah, she cut right through the red tape as soon as I mentioned his name.”

“Hmm, bad feeling I had. Trust me she does when tell her I do. Also saw him day before, looked off he did.”

“That’s what Kress said too.” He peeked into the bedroom. Brother Artin was performing some sort of ritual, mouthing words while he handled his prayer beads. The room felt peaceful. Quin got up to walk around, his feet carrying him back to the friend wall. There were a few new flat pics on it, some replacing the previously framed ones, others left perched above the frames by friends who had stopped by. He smiled at the three of them dolled up on their first night in Aldera, then stepped back to look at the art print (and Force, now it was _so_ painfully obvious) when his comm beeped with an incoming call. He scrambled to lower the volume before it chirped again, then answered, wondering who would be calling him this late besides Kressa.

“Hello?”

Yoda looked at him in mild curiosity as he grimaced at whoever was speaking with him.

“Um, hold on, just a minute,” he nodded apologetically at Master Yoda, then stepped out into the hall. All was quiet, the lights dim, so he sat down under the still warm-yellow lantern and put the comm back up to his ear.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

There was a sniffle. “Rouge Organa.”

“Ah, got it.” All he had managed to catch on the first run through was ‘Obi-Wan,’ ‘vigil,’ ‘dead,’ ‘Organa’ and a hell of a lot of panic.

“Okay, your Highness. This is Knight Vos. Were you trying to reach me?”

“Yes!” There was a pause and he could hear her swallow. “I’m sorry to bother you, I tried to reach Knight Carlin when I couldn’t get through to Obi-Wan, but she didn’t answer. I called Obi-Wan to see if he was on Coruscant and there was a message about a vigil.”

Quin stifled a yawn. “Yeah, I’m there now. Well, I stepped out when you called. Kressa is probably asleep, not ignoring you. It’s pretty late here.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t remember.”

“It’s okay.” Quin couldn’t stop the yawn this time. “Obi-Wan can’t talk right now.”

“Is he dead? Or dying?”

“No,” Quin tried to figure out why she was so upset, then realized if she was close enough to Obi-Wan to reach his in Temple comm, she must have gotten the outgoing message Eller set up for the vigil. While a Jedi would find a message about a yellow vigil and a link to the volunteer page reassuring, to someone outside the Order it was probably very frightening.

“Oh, Force, your Highness. He’ll be okay. He’s just sick and got beat up on his last mission. Yellow vigil just means he is getting treated at home and can’t be left alone until he’s feeling better. Sometimes they are more serious, but those are different colors.”

There was a loud sniffle. “You’re sure he’ll be okay? Why can’t I talk to him?”

“He should be. The healers have been checking in every few hours. No surprises, just slowly getting better. He can’t talk because he’s sleeping it off.”

“What happened?”

“Um, I really don’t know what I’m allowed to tell you.” He heard her take a deep breath and the Force warned him he might well be facing the wrath of the second in line to the throne of Alderaan. “Hold that thought.”

He slipped back into the room and hurried over to Master Yoda. “Rouge Organa, Little Bail’s sister, called me. She tried to call Obi-Wan, got the vigil message and I’m not allowed to actually tell her anything.” Quin grimaced. “You’re his LNOK, so I thought you’d know what he’d want me to say.”

Yoda sighed and held out his hand for the comm. “Which sister this is?”

“Oldest sister, about Obi-Wan’s age. I think she might be on Coruscant now, based on the connection.” He handed over the device.

Yoda adjusted it to fit his smaller face. “Allo? Who speaking this is?” He listened patiently. “Yes, know who you are I do. Worried about cousin you are. Very kind of you to check is.” He listened some more. “Highness, with respect I ask, uncle or mother there? Understand me better they do.”

Yoda held the comm away from his ear and Quin could distinctly hear Princess Rouge yell “Uncle Bail, it’s the one who talks backwards!” Quin smothered a laugh. After a moment Yoda put the comm back to his ear, presumably to speak with someone else.

“Senator Antilles this is? Yes, Yoda I am.”

“No, no, apologize not. Very frightening that must sound.” He looked at Quin. “Change message we should.”

“Yes, injured and sick from mission. Bad stomach bug. Better getting, contagious not. Wake up soon will, up to talking tomorrow may be.”

“No, not serious. Could have been, but treated was. No, no. My not quite padawan he is. Care for him I do. His LNOK I am. Friends, neighbors help also. Talk to him in morning I will, see how feeling he is. Tomorrow not, but in two days time perhaps. Still weak, should leave Temple not. Yes, if agree, arrange with Eller can. Eller you know, yes?”

“Yes, yes. Worry not. Ask tomorrow I will. Know more then I will. Tell him I will. Sleeping now, wake up soon will. Still sore and bruised will be, tender stomach, but getting better is.”

“Apologize not. Understand you do that Jedi family are too. Taking care of him we are. Tell Princess good cousin she is, upset no one she has.”

“Alright he will be, call tomorrow someone will. Leave message with code with Eller do.”

“Yes. May the Force be with you.”

The call disconnected. Yoda gave Quinlan his comm back.

“Still care for him family does. Unusual for Jedi that much contact to have.”

“You don’t discourage it?”

Yoda shrugged. “Protective Little Bail is. Big Bail too. Ask him not for favors. Only want to know him do. Work with many Jedi Organas do. Fondness, friendship, but attachment not. Know he does that if Jedi must leave, refuge of family still has. Gives more calm, more balance, not less. Unusual, but unique not. Also helps that title, status he has not. No temptation, just good ally.” He made a scoffing sound. “Master Dooku left Order did, took hereditary title did. Claims Jedi wrong are, suit him not, but title, power tempted him long time have. Prince Obi-Wan is not, even if legitimate was. Pull him away from duty friendship does not. Open new paths does. But cautious always. Understand that Organas do, many would not.” He sighed. “Want to visit they do. Told them later, maybe. Be seen in pajamas by royal family he might not want.”

Quinlan laughed. Knight Ale-In-A-Glass would definitely _not_ want to be seen that way though he doubted Little Bail and Rouge would care.

“Thanks for taking the call.”

“Problem not. His privacy you respect. Thank you I do.”

Quin’s comm beeped again, this time with a text-based message from Big Bail.

_My apologies for the late call. Thank you for letting us know and kindness to Rouge. What is an ‘elnock?’ Should I be worried?_

Quin snorted at the message.

 _L.N.O.K. Legal next of kin. The one who is allowed to talk to you_.

The comm beeped again.

_So Master Yoda is not there because it’s very serious?_

Quin frowned. He supposed hearing about a vigil and then being connected to the Grandmaster would make the whole thing sound dire.

_Master Yoda is here because he’s Obi-Wan’s mentor and Master Jinn was a jerk to him, not because he’s the Grandmaster. If it were more serious, he’d tell you. He’s a good guy._

Quin settled back into the couch. On the other side Yoda was doing stretching exercises, touching his toes and rotating his ankles. Quin hoped he was that limber twenty years from now, forget eight hundred.

The comm beeped again.

_I know he is. Thank you for helping to take care of our kinsman._

Quin looked up to see Master Yoda looking at him eyebrow quirked, as he bent low, holding the stretch.

“Big Bail. He was just confirming you were not running the vigil because you are Grandmaster and Obi-Wan was near death.”

Yoda wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Job as Grandmaster that is not.”

Quin shrugged. “He doesn’t know that. If _he_ showed up to a vigil or funeral, he’d have to be really close, it would have to be someone really important or it would have to be some big tragedy. He _knows_ Obi-Wan is just one knight out of many.”

Yoda sighed. “Friends I have. But understand concern I do.” He sat up and began rolling his head, joints cracking.

“How did you get to be Obi-Wan’s friend? I know you mentored him, but why did he stand out?”

Yoda did not deny it. “Force told me to. Also made impression when first met we did. Friendship develop over years did. Old soul he is. More older friends than just me he has.”

“How old was he when you met?”

“Hrmm,” Yoda frowned. “Six months? Still baby was. Try to visit all babies I do when arrive at Temple they do.” He shrugged. “Bright in Force I am. Reassures them this can, even in children with weaker connections, or older children.”

“I was fairly old when I came to the Temple. I don’t remember meeting you.”

Yoda wiggled his fingers. “Kiffar you are. Master Koon also scary can be in new place. Sent in Master Bes we did, talk to you he did, took you to creche.” Yoda leaned closer. “Nosy old grandmaster watched from hall did.”

“I do remember Master Bes. He had his own legs then.” He frowned. “You thought I needed another Kiffar?”

“Human or near-human we thought best. Kiffar master more reassuring could be. Also Bes with very bright light shines. Difficult times when came to Temple to you did. Friendly faces needed we thought, not scary, grumbly dragon. Look like you he did. Understand you he could. Reassure you he could without hugs you might not want.”

Yoda looked him in the eye. “Strong presence you had in Force. Interacted well with Bes, despite fears. Had him take you to healers and creche. Very clear that train as Jedi you should.”

“And you could tell this when I was a child? And when Obi-Wan was an infant?”

Yoda blinked mildly. “Yes, clear these things are, in most cases to train or not train. Not all end up as knights, but most who become very good knights stand out.”

“How did I stand out?”

Yoda looked away, trying to remember the details. “Most clear your resilience was. Not safe to return you to home, some training you already had. Keep you in Temple we would regardless. Many docents refugees are, or cannot serve in Corps, so place there was for you, even if knight not. Frightened you were, very traumatized. Hide under couch you did.”

Quinlan could just barely remember.

“Told Bes what happened we did. Sang you creche songs, sat on floor did, brought big box of mittens.”

Quinlan smiled at the memory. “He called them ‘magic mittens’ and told me I could pick as many as I wanted.”

“Brave you were, but cautious. Came out just far enough for mitten, but tested them, tested Bes too. Felt his leg you did with mitten, without mitten. Trust Force you did. Tell you it did safe Bes was so out you came. After ordeal you had, expected this was not. Trusted Force more than grownups, very attuned for age. Very glad we were when chose to learn Jedi ways you did.”

“Master Bes is very easy to trust.”

Yoda nodded. “Very kind he is.”

“What did Obi-Wan do? He was just a baby.”

“Very bright in Force, if know how to look you do. Strong he is in Unifying Force, but Living Force not, unusual in younglings. Creche masters lean more toward L, see his talents not. But very engaged was as baby. First caregivers Force-sensitive were not. Very bright Jedi were to him. When met we did, light up he did. Reached for me in Force he did. Recognize me he did. See me in dreams he did, I think. Or just bright I was. Like you, trust in Force he did. Knew safe I was. Played game we did, mobiles we would spin. Spin not just his mobile, but on other cribs too. Make other babies laugh. That how Organas realized Force sensitive he was. Spin not just own mobile, spin Rouge’s too.” Yoda snorted. “Teach him Breggle sooner I should have.”

“That going well?”

Yoda shrugged. “Not much lesson time. Maybe if feeling better later play again we can.”

“So, you became his friend because he was a telekinetic baby?”

“No,” Yoda shook his head. “Force tell me keep eye on him I should. As said, creche masters understand Living Force, but some develop Unifying Force not. Need more balance they do, raising future they are. Understand children strong in Unifying Force they don’t always. Overlook or underestimate them can. When strongly to U, learn differently they can. Was as if children in creche stars are, but in different colors shine. Obi-Wan shines in color that see they cannot. If see it they could, much brighter his light would be. Point this out I had to do. More than once.”

 _Borderline_. Quin wondered if it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s midi-chlorian count so much as his L/U balance that had made the Jedi consider him Service Corp material at birth.

“Does that still happen? Do other Jedi think he’s not as strong as he is because he leans so far to U?”

Yoda gave him a piercing look. “Just Jedi not.”

Quinlan thought back to the footage of Obi-Wan killing the Sith and the rumors surrounding it. The Sith for one had certainly seemed stunned at the quick reversal, but the Temple rumor mill had pinned that kill on Qui-Gon Jinn, despite his serious injuries. Obi-Wan obviously didn’t like talking about it, but Quin had sparred with him and had seen him go all out against Master Drallig. He was young, but he was formidable, even when still a padawan. Why was the idea of Obi-Wan having killed the Sith so inconceivable? He was obviously strong in the Force; Quin could feel it.

In his _fingers_.

He _knew_ Obi-Wan was strong in the Force, his psychometry told him so from that one faint finger-brush, and sometimes he could feel it when sparring and they inevitably had some sort of contact. But what did his Force sense alone tell him? It was a bit of a challenge, like separating the sensations of taste and smell. His Force sense and psychometry were intertwined, each enhancing the other, more than the sum of their parts. But what did they tell him individually? He quieted his mind, wondering if he usually used his psychometry, rather than his Force sense to judge relative Force strength in others. He had assumed at their first meeting that Obi-Wan would be reasonably strong as soon as he was introduced; Qui-Gon Jinn expected the best from people and would not have trained a weak student, but Obi-Wan had been much more closed off then, almost defensive, so he probably wouldn’t have noticed much, even if he had been feeling for it. The psychometry cut through a lot of speculation, he was _quite_ strong and even though Obi-Wan had impressive shields for his age, it would take much more training to hide his strength behind those shields from that kind of probe.

Intrigued by this sudden realization, Quinlan closed his eyes, positioning himself so no bare skin was touching the couch beneath him, then opened his mind, feeling the other occupants of the apartment solely with the Force.

Master Yoda was of course the brightest, like a brilliant star at the other end of the couch, the Force flowing from him and through him. For the first time Quin could understand why the younglings found him so appealing, despite his relatively strange appearance. And it wasn’t just the Living Force; Yoda shown in the Unifying Force as well, unlike many of the creche masters. It was little wonder that someone like Obi-Wan would latch on to him, though it did make pairing Obi-Wan with Qui-Gon Jinn seem an odd choice.

The brilliance dimmed slowly and after a moment Quinlan realized Yoda must be shielding more, allowing the knight his meditation without blocking out everything else. He sent out a pulse of gratitude, then continued.

In the bedroom he could sense two bright presences, on a completely different scale than Yoda, but still strong. He was surprised at how strong the monk felt in the Force. The few brothers and sisters he had met were always so quiet and humble, it was easy to mentally lump them in with the Service Corp Jedi: washouts, borderlines, the temperamental or meek, those who had some flaw or mismatch that made them unsuitable for knighthood. In Brother Artin’s case anyway, this was clearly not the case. Brother Artin had a very solid, grounded presence, very immersed in the Force, was very calm, very centered and quite strong. He felt more like a healer than a farmer, but also like the oldest masters who didn’t leave the Temple anymore and spent most of their days in meditation. Brother Artin certainly _was_ strong enough in the Force to have been a knight, but whatever his reasons had been, he had joined the brothers instead of the Service Corp. It was almost as if he was _too_ rooted in the Force to devote his efforts to the more mundane, compromising life of a knight.

The other presence was quiet, muted, as if seen through a mist or colored film, which he soon realized was Obi-Wan still wrapped up in the fading sleep compulsion. The knight’s presence was dim, both from sleep and the protective layers of the Force, but now that he was sensing is solely through the Force, it was strange.

Obi-Wan’s Force presence felt very mature. Many of his shields were down (so it was probably a good thing the sleep compulsion also served as a protective shield of sorts, though it was little wonder Yoda did not want to leave him alone and vulnerable), but even unconscious the framework for sophisticated defenses remained. Clearly Kenobi hadn’t spent his extensive meditation time navel gazing, but instead had been rigorously developing his mind. But Yoda was right, it was far more U than L.

Quin pulled back into his own mind, resolved to look again at some other time. There were too many complicating factors now, but he felt that had just stumbled onto a big puzzle piece in the Mystery that was Obi-Wan Kenobi. Whatever he felt with his fingers was not what others were sensing, but clearly Yoda could look deeper.

Quinlan surfaced from his meditation to find Yoda dozing, snuggling up to the throw pillow. Quin hoped he wasn’t missing Master Yaddle too much or whoever he usually spent his nights with.

The last hours of Obi-Wan’s hibernation ticked by into the quiet hours of the morning. Another healer came in for the usual checks. A nun knocked on the door and came in, silent, speaking only with her hands. Quin left to find his bed. Brother Artin stood and stretched, then went out into the common room.

“Going home you are?” Yoda asked, half-sitting up.

“Soon,” the monk replied. “He’s starting to wake up and I didn’t want to startle him. I’ll sleep better if I stay until he is resettled.”

“Thank you I do.”

The nun moved her hands, looking at Brother Artin intently.

“He has been asleep since tenth hour yesterday morning, Sister Vella. Of course, I trust you can take care of him. I just thought you might want a hand moving him to the fresher when he wakes.”

She answered.

“You’re welcome. Yes, young knights are heavier than they look.”

Yoda’s head came up and he raised a hand for silence. “Awake he is.”


	11. Part XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is awake, Cin makes a deal, Breggle is played, Bant frets, Obi-Wan's friends are supportive, and Obi-Wan gets another massage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted song lyrics are from _O-o-oh Child_ , first recorded by The Five Stairsteps. Those of you younger than me may be most familiar with it from _Guardians of the Galaxy_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DHRGrIqmb0
> 
> Sorry the chapter was later than usual. Being an essential employee is kicking my butt.

_Ooh child,_

_Things are gonna get easier._

_Ooh child,_

_Things'll get brighter._

\-- Stan Vincent, _O-o-oh Child_

He opened his eyes to find himself in a field of stars, not knowing where he was or how he had gotten there. Uncertain whether he was awake or dreaming, he looked inward, taking stock of his current condition. He was definitely in his own body, with no major injury, but he felt like he had been through the wringer. All of his muscles were stiff, as if he had spent days overexerting himself, then crammed into the cockpit of a one-man starfighter for a three-day hyperspace flight. His breathing was fine, but his mouth was very dry. His stomach felt temperamental, but his bowels were quiet and unbothered. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t feel as if he had eaten recently. His bladder felt as if . . . he had a catheter. Was it for medical treatment or something more ominous? He tried to move his arms and was relieved they were not restrained, but he could feel the pinch of medical tape and an intravenous line in one. He brought his free hand to his face and felt very grubby scruff and a tube going up his nose. How long had he been here? Where was here? He peered into the dim, and could make out an open door, a familiar bedside table with a standard chrono, and an unfamiliar star projector next to a medical monitor, which noted someone was conscious. Probably him. He closed his eyes and did a mental check to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, distressed that he had no clear memory of how he had gotten here (though he now had a strong suspicion of where _here_ was).

A light tapping sound came from the door. Obi-Wan turned to see a very short and distinctive silhouette. “Master?” he croaked, and yes, it was clear he had been out for a while.

“Awake you are.” The shadow in the doorway came into the dark, the familiar features only resolving when he climbed up on the chair next to the bed and raised the lights slightly. “Gave your old master a scare you did.”

“I’m sorry?” He moved to sit up, but Yoda put a hand on his chest.

“Slowly you must move. Asleep a long time you have been.”

“How long?” he frowned. “What happened?”

“Sick you have been. What remember do you?”

“Um,” he tried to focus. “I came back from my mission on Dailfo, it didn’t go well. I think we had a Council Meeting about it,” he sounded uncertain as if he wasn’t sure if he had been in the meeting or only dreamt about it. “And I made an appointment to see Healer Vygor, but . . . did I miss it?”

Yoda nodded, pleased that Obi-Wan was as coherent as he was. “Missed it you did. Sick with fever you were. Delirious you were. Infection in stomach. Sleeping off illness you have been.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Master. I . . . you talked to me. You told me I was sick . . . I thought I had anxiety.’

“Anxiety you had. Infection also. Very nasty healers say. Look much better you do now. Mind more clear is.”

“How did you find me?”

“Find you I did not. Neighbors noticed sick you were. Came to get me Vos did. Worried about you they were.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m so sorry, Master Yoda. I didn’t mean to bother you or frighten you or take up your time.”

“Hush you will. Apologize not. Sick we all get. Jedi we are. Take care of each other we do. Right now your turn it is. Hold vigil we did, so stay with healers you did not have to.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, embarrassed. “I should have realized I was sick.”

“Still young you are. Learning you are. Listened to Force you did but hear whole message you could not. Explain later I will.” Yoda patted his hand. “Every padawan I have had gave me good scare when young knight was. Cin did. Yan did. Si, _ho_ , Si worst was. _Very_ bad scare. Scare me you did when home you were, healers nearby. Very polite you were.”

Obi-Wan managed the ghost of a laugh, just as the apartment door opened.

“Ah, here healer is, check your brain they must.” Yoda patted him again. “Stay there you will.”

“Yes, Master Yoda.”

After a moment a female healer in scrubs and Brother Artin came in, knocking lightly to announce themselves.

“I hear our patient is awake,” the healer smiled and slowly brought the lights all the way up. “Is he coherent?”

“Little confused,” Yoda conceded. “But delirious not.”

“Well that’s to be expected after a Master Yoda sleep compulsion mind whammy,” she pulled out a pen light to check Obi-Wan’s pupils, leaving him blinking to get his sight back. “Eyes look good.” She continued to check his reflexes and vital signs. “Good, good, looking good. Do you know what day it is?”

“No,” Obi-Wan frowned. “You’re standing in front of the chrono and I suspect it’s after Thursday if I missed my appointment.”

“He’s not incorrect,” the healer chuckled before reaching out with both hands to probe his brain. “Just try to relax, I’m not trying to reveal your secrets, just checking for concussion or lingering issues.” Obi-Wan nodded as she reached around his head, sending out probes, and feeling his brain respond.

“Okay,” she stepped back. “No sign of concussion, though that was what Healer Giri thought too. Hard to confirm when you’re unconscious. It looks like you’ll probably be okay. No signs you cooked your brain with the fever, your delirium was mostly electrolyte imbalance. We can disconnect the catheter and IV if you keep drinking fluids while you’re awake and come down to the healers in a few days for a full neuro workup, just to be sure we didn’t miss anything. You still need supervision for the next two days, maybe three, but you can get up and move around as long as someone is here and can catch you if you start to fall. You also need a shower buddy in case you pass out. You’ll probably be very weak, even light-headed for the next few days; your system is totally depleted. No meditation until after you can hold down solid food and no active Force use until your neuro workup. Also, you have almost no shields right now. Do you want a healer to help you with that or have Master Yoda help you?”

“Um.” It was a lot to process for someone just out of a sleep compulsion.

“Worry about shields later you can. More rest you need.”

“How long have I been asleep?” Obi-Wan was starting to sound worried.

“Not long enough to return to duty, but long enough to need a shower?” Brother Artin suggested. “Being clean will probably make you feel better.”

Obi-Wan touched his scuffy face and grimaced. He felt sticky. “That would be nice.”

Brother Artin nodded, then bent down to help him sit up. “Just go slow, you haven’t stood up for a while.”

“His blood pressure is lower than we’d like, so definitely go slow. Use a shower chair until the lightheadedness goes away. We’ll keep checking on you. If it doesn’t go away by tonight, we can put the IV back in or give you a blood transfusion.” She reached for his arm and carefully removed the IV, then disconnected the nasogastric tube. “Watch out, you’ve still got one more tube there.”

“Didn’t forget.”

The healer retrieved the urine bag to give him slack to move. “If you can get safely to the fresher, we’ll take out the catheter, but we’ve been monitoring your stomach and I think we should leave the NG tube in one more day. At last check your stomach was still very irritated, so we want to give you another dose of stomach coat tomorrow. Try some clear fluids in the meantime. Water, broth, Lyte-Ryte. No juice or tea until we pull the tube.” She reached out and felt his stomach. “Yes, keep the tube in overnight if it’s not too uncomfortable, you definitely need more. Let’s get you in the fresher and after I run your blood tests, I’ll give you a dose before I leave.”

Obi-Wan nodded. He’d gladly keep the tube up his nose if he could get the other one out of his bladder. Slowly he turned, sliding his legs out of the bed, flexing his feet and wincing at dozens of muscle aches making themselves known, hoping he would be able to walk to his own fresher without making a fool of himself. At least he was wearing pants. Brother Artin stood next to him, holding out his arms to help Obi-Wan pull himself up or keep himself stable, while the healer carefully stood on the other side, ready to help.

Obi-Wan managed to stand and keep from wobbling too badly, but before he had gone two steps the lights began to dim, his knees gave out and he found himself in Brother Artin’s awkward embrace as the monk kept him from falling further.

“I’m sorry, Healer,” Obi-Wan tried to get his feet under him.

“It’s alright, Young Traveler. I’m quite used to catching falling Jedi.” The monk lowered him back to the bed and let him steady himself until blood resumed flowing to his head. “Ready to try again?”

Obi-Wan had curled in on himself, party in embarrassment and partly to lower his head. He peered at Brother Artin, noting his clothes. “I’m very sorry, Brother. I didn’t mean to fall on you like that.” He was aware that some monks and nuns kept stricter vows and some eschewed casual contact. Falling into one seemed unspeakably rude.

“Do not worry yourself, Traveler. I’m the head physical therapist at the home. Master Bes falls into me all the time. The only way to get steady is to work through the unsteady.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Thank you.” This time he took Brother Artin up on the unspoken offer and gripped his arms securely before trying to stand. The three of them worked their way over to the fresher where Sister Vella was getting out towels and setting up the bathing bench that folded out of the shower wall.

Yoda crept out into the hall to set the lanterns to yellow, then to the kitchen to pour drinks for when everyone was done. There was a brief flash of pain which Yoda was quite sure signaled the catheter removal, then the healer came out to run the tests while Artin and Vella gave a still bewildered Obi-Wan a good scrub down. Obi-Wan was still too tired to be all that embarrassed about it (and it was hardly the first time he had been too sick or injured to wash himself) though with his shields so weak, Yoda almost felt as if he were in the fresher with them, the illusion of privacy wearing thin. Obi-Wan seemed very puzzled by the new pajamas he hadn’t ordered as Artin and Vella helped him dress, but it did show his brain was waking up more as time passed.

It wasn’t long before Obi-Wan was clean, dry, dressed and sitting on the couch, his blood pressure finally high enough that Brother Artin felt comfortable leaving. Sister Vella finished cleaning up the fresher, while the healer confirmed all tests showed improvement before producing a large syringe of stomach medicine. Obi-Wan tensed, grateful he hadn’t been awake for his previous doses, but the meds were administered slowly, and his stomach did not protest as he had been expecting.

“All done,” the healer confirmed, pulling away and capping the NG tube. “If the tube is bothering you we can remove it, but we would have to put it back in tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” It was hardly the first time.

The healer picked up a large bottle of room temperature water. “Alright. Try to drink as much of this as you can before you fall asleep again. Try some broth later in the morning. If you don’t get nauseated, we’ll try you on very soft food after your next dose. Keep drinking fluids whenever you’re awake. The dehydration put a strain on your kidneys, so be nice to them for a while. If you can manage it, use the specimen cups so we can monitor your urine, but I think you’ll be okay. Your tests all came back as expected, but you’re still not fully hydrated.”

“Yes, Healer.”

“Alright, I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Sister Vella.” She turned to Master Yoda. “And _you_ should get some sleep.”

“Resting I have been. Naps I have had.”

The healer looked unconvinced, which was understandable given the hour. She looked to Obi-Wan, then Yoda. “Fluids. Sleep. No arguments.”

Obi-Wan sipped at his water, then slumped on the couch as the healer left. Yoda sipped at some chilled tea. Sister Vella settled into the armchair and pulled out some knitting.

“Looking better you are. More alert.”

“Not alert enough for guard duty, but I’m awake.” He frowned at the unfamiliar patterns on his pajama sleeve. “I’d offer to take you home, Master, but I don’t think I’d make it down the hall.”

Yoda snorted. So did the nun.

“Planned to stay I did. Leave you alone I would not.”

“I know, Master. Thank you.” Obi-Wan sipped at his water and Yoda could still feel a strong undercurrent of embarrassment over the whole thing. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Good couch you have,” Yoda leaned over to put his empty cup on the caff table, then settled back down, covering himself in his robe. “Comfortable it is. Worry not.”

The room settled into a comfortable peace. Yoda slowly drifted toward sleep. Obi-Wan sipped at his water. Sister Vella’s knitting needles clicked in the quiet.

Yoda pulled his robe more closer and resettled himself on his favored throw pillow. Obi-Wan noticed and slowly sat up, then reached into a basket under the caff table for a small lap blanket which he gently spread over Yoda’s legs. Yoda gave him a small smile, pulled the blanket higher and settled back down.

Obi-Wan looked up and waited until he caught the nun’s eye. He wanted to ask if she was cold and wanted a blanket, but his brain was still fuzzy and he was out of practice with signing, so he opted to speak and sign at the same time, fairly certain he didn’t get all the words right.

Sister Vella gave him a small smile, then responded in kind, her speech halting, slurred and difficult to follow. “I can hear you just fine. No, thank you. Are you cold?”

Obi-Wan did not try to sign back but was grateful her signs helped him to follow her speech. She sounded as if there had been some injury or deformity in her mouth or throat that made speech difficult.

“Not more than usual.” He pulled a larger throw out of the basket and spread it over himself, then yawned. “If you get cold, there is another throw in the closet,” he pointed it out. “I’ll probably fall asleep soon.” He frowned in thought. “I have no idea what is in the kitchen.”

Yoda snorted. “Sick you are. Good host you don’t have to be.” He opened his eyes and peered at Vella. “Stew in chiller there is. Nerf or veg. Also chilled tea, cheese, vegetables.”

Obi-Wan shifted, trying to get comfortable. “There’s also your crickets in the cabinet, Master.”

“Forgot that I did. For breakfast have them I can.”

“I’m fine for now. Will make tea later.” Vella resumed her knitting.

“Yes, lots of tea we have.” Yoda peered at Obi-Wan on the other side of the couch. “Want to go to bed you do not?”

Obi-Wan shrugged, looking sleepy. “I can if I’m bothering you.”

Yoda leaned over and patted his ankle, the only part of the young knight he could reach. “Bothering me you are not.” He gave Obi-Wan a small smile. “Many days alone you were, then slept a long time you did. To be with people you want?”

Obi-Wan nodded, a little embarrassed.

“Good for you that is. Stay with group.” He yawned. “Slumber party we have.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” Vella slurred.

Yoda laughed and settled back down. Obi-Wan half-turned into the back of the couch. Soon, Sister Vella was the only one still awake. The knitting needles clicked rhythmically in the night.

* * *

Just after fifth hour, the apartment door opened and Master Drallig poked his head in. Vella looked up from her knitting (she had finished the back of the sweater and was casting on the front panels), and waved to welcome him in, but put a finger to her lips, indicating Obi-Wan and Yoda were still sleeping. Cin came in quietly, put a large thermos on the caff table, then moved a folding chair next to Yoda and sat down.

“Upgraded to yellow,” he whispered. “Doing better?”

Vella signed back that yes, the knight was doing much better, his mind seemed clear, but he was very tired.

Cin looked over both Yoda and the blanket-covered lump at the other end of the couch. “Yoda is shielding him?” he asked, concerned.

Vella explained he had only woken up a few hours ago and was still wrung out and exhausted.

Cin was about to ask if Vella needed anything when he felt a small hand on his knee. He looked down to see Yoda blinking at him sleepily. “Good morning, Master.”

“Time what is?” Yoda grumbled.

“Half past fifth. I came by before the morning saber clinics.” He nodded at Obi-Wan whose head and torso were completely covered by the blanket, but one bare foot was outstretched along the couch, close enough for Yoda to reach. “How’s the kid?”

“Much better, weak still. Brain good.”

Vella frowned. “Healers want to check.”

“Checking good idea is but feel his mind I can. Tired, but brain good.”

Cin smiled, shaking his head. “Master Yoda was very involved in Knight Kenobi’s training. Si says he’s practically our half-brother.”

Yoda snorted. “Better nickname that is.”

Cin held up his hands innocently. “I didn’t start the duckling thing.”

Vella put a hand over her mouth, laughing silently. “This is the duck?”

Yoda frowned.

Cin nodded. “This is the duckling, well, all grown up now.”

“A big mouth Simet has.”

“It’s not meant as an insult,” Cin assured him. “It’s good to know you’re still making close friends, even if you aren’t taking any more padawans. Si worries about what will happen to you when he’s gone and I’m the only one left.”

“Take care of decrepit master your job it is not.”

Cin laughed. “I suspect I’ll be decrepit long before you will, Master.”

“Welcome in retirement home.” Vella signed along with her speech. “You can sing the daily prayers.”

“Ready to retire I am not.” He patted Obi-Wan’s ankle. “Still more Jedi to teach I have.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his face half-covered in blankets. “You have to train Luke.”

Yoda half sat up and Cin raised an eyebrow.

“Is he awake?”

Yoda scrutinized the young knight for a long moment, feeling the Force currents. “No.”

Cin frowned, picking up on the weak Force ripples moving around the younger man. “Does he do this a lot?”

Yoda shrugged. “When around someone to listen is,” he sighed. “Probably. Very strong in Unifying Force he is.”

“Do you know this Luke?”

Yoda reached for the Force, feeling possibilities both Light and Dark, but none soon. “Not yet.” He peered at the thermos Cin had brought. “Caff?”

“Broth,” Cin gave it a suspicious look. “A certain master who shall remain nameless asked me to bring it for the patient. Didn’t think it was good idea to bring it himself.”

“Did he?” Yoda considered the thermos, speculating.

“He seemed a bit embarrassed that he didn’t know about the vigil but didn’t ask for details.” Cin sighed, “He was conflicted, as if his brain was telling him he should do something, but his heart wasn’t in it. Or maybe the opposite.”

“Both conflicted I think. Walled off heart he did. Repressed love, but once there it was. Once strong bond they had. Deep roots remain still I think.”

“Do you think they are ever going to be a team again?” Cin knew Qui-Gon was getting older and his injury had taken a lot out of him, but the loss of that formidable pair had been a tactical blow to the Order.

“No,” Yoda shook his head. “Outgrown him he has. Stand on own can, even if get sick and stumble sometimes he does.” He sighed. “Good if civil they can be, if cooperate they can, but team gone is. Master trust knight does not. Know knight does that trust Master _can_ not. _Should_ not. _Does_ not.”

Cin was quiet for a long moment. “I did get a favor in return for my delivery.” Yoda looked up with interest. “He agreed to take our next masters level seminar.”

Yoda’s ears perked up. “Who else taking the class is? Need strong minds you do, who see mistakes can, not by skills dazzled are.”

Cin gave him a wicked smile. “Gi-Ho recommended we ask Master Si to join us.”

Yoda clapped a hand over his mouth, giggling. “Argue with Simet Jinn always did.”

“And he always lost the argument, if I recall correctly.”

“Yes,” Yoda shook his head. “Impressed by him Simet was not. Respected skills, disliked arrogance did.”

“Well, Master Si did tell him he wouldn’t always be the best swordsman in the room. Probably wasn’t expecting a Sith though.”

“Learn different forms Simet did. Fought with swords he did. Knew he did, more weapons exist than just lightsabers, more swordsman than just Jedi. Expect Sith he did not, but always aware stronger opponents exist.”

“He said a bounty hunter once tried to recruit him to hunt down Jedi when he was taking a Mandalorian fencing class.”

Yoda nodded, laughing at the memory. “Yes. Went with man to bar he did, heard offer, passed on intel, returned to class. Told instructor wanted to train for competition instead. Realized who he was no one did, until testify at trial did. Even instructor not know.”

Cin shook his head. “That’s why I want him involved, Master. Not just to knock Jinn down a peg, but because he thinks outside the box, and has a vast knowledge beyond just Jedi techniques.”

“Came to vigil he did. Stunned I was.”

“ _Oh_ , I know. He got hung up by security.” Cin looked hopeful. “This is so important, Master. I hope we can convince him.”

“Did well he did when came with him Bes did. Maybe bring friend with good hands let him?”

“Maybe. Let me know if he comes back to the vigil. I don’t want to pressure him if this was a one-off.”

“Tell you I will.” On the other side of the couch, Obi-Wan shifted in his sleep. Yoda patted his foot and he settled again, like a fretful infant soothed by its mother’s touch.

Cin shook his head. “Maybe he’s our three-quarter brother.’

“Good,” Yoda yawned. “Lineage brothers he has not. No master, no grandmaster. Older brothers good for him would be.”

“Go back to sleep, Master. I’ll watch over our friend.’

“Hmm, need to put you on friend wall he does.” Yoda drifted off.

Cin raised an eyebrow to Vella, who pointed out the friend wall with a grin. Cin stared at it a long time, pondering the pics and the large print. “Simet was right, Master. You were quite the stud when you were younger.”

Vella laughed her silent laugh so hard she dropped a stitch.

* * *

The second day of the vigil was far less dramatic than the first. Quinlan, like most of his neighbors, was relieved to wake up to yellow lanterns and Obi-Wan’s status updated from ‘sleep compulsion’ to ‘woke up, brain okay!’ Kressa came over at seventh hour with hot caff and small breakfast sandwiches (Yoda added crickets to his), then cleaned the fresher. She did note the box of condoms was still in the cabinet but wasn’t so nosy as to see how many had been used.

Obi-Wan woke around eighth hour (just after Master Drallig left with some caff), still stiff and sore, but with much better color and blood pressure. He managed to convince Master Yoda to let him use the fresher by himself (and spent a long time just brushing his teeth). He wasn’t quite a functional human yet, but he was starting to feel like he would probably get better now. He spent several minutes staring at his face in dismay, wondering how in the Force _that much hair_ could grow on his chin while he had been so sick, but in the end decided to leave it alone for now, knowing he did not have the energy to tackle the whole job right now. He knew Master Yoda wasn’t worried about him, heck, the tiny master probably knew what his turds would have looked like if he’d had any, his shields were so abominably bad right now, but he could feel Kressa and Jitters getting concerned, so he finished up and trudged back to the couch. Yoda absent-mindedly patted his leg as he passed, busy reading the latest Council petitions and reports.

“Are you allowed to eat?” Jitters asked, looking up from his data comm where he had been typing with surprising speed.

“Clear liquids only.” Obi-Wan's water bottle had been refilled, and he picked it up, drinking slowly.

“Broth there is for you,” Yoda nodded at the thermos. “Brought it Cin did.”

Obi-Wan looked surprised. “It’s not caff for you?”

“No,” Yoda moved his hand and the thermos slid across the caff table until it was within Obi-Wan’s reach. “What kind I do not know, but healers added it to vigil list did.”

Obi-Wan picked it up, surprised. “Master Drallig was here?”

Yoda shrugged. “Padawan reunion almost.”

Jitters got up and brought Obi-Wan a clean cup. Obi-Wan opened the thermos, sniffed the contents, then poured a cup of the still steaming broth. Yoda appeared nonchalant as Obi-Wan swallowed, waiting to see if his stomach would protest. He put down the cup.

“Master Jinn made this.”

Yoda looked up in surprise. “He did. How know that did you?”

Obi-Wan picked up the cup, staring at the golden-brown liquid. “Because it’s terrible.” He took another sip.

Both Yoda and Jitters stared at him as if he were perhaps losing his mind. Obi-Wan shrugged. “He always made it if one of us were sick. It isn’t so bad if one’s nose is too stuffed to taste anything, but if you can, it’s utterly bland and doesn’t have enough salt.” He took a longer sip this time. “It’s still hot enough to be soothing, but it’s not going to win any culinary awards.”

Curious, Yoda pulled the thermos back over and poured a small amount into his empty caff cup, sniffing at it thoroughly before taking a cautious sip. The results were hilarious.

“Bleh!” He had managed to swallow it but screwed up his face like an angry child being forced to eat their vegetables. “Horrible that is.”

Obi-Wan shrugged and took a larger sip. “It tastes like home. Well, my old home.”

“Ugh,” Yoda shook his head and poured himself some cold water from the carafe. “Cook better than this even _I_ do.”

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly.

Curious, Jitters sniffed at the thermos, poured out a small amount and tasted it cautiously before spitting it back into the cup, a revolted look on his face. “That’s awful!”

Obi-Wan continued to sip at his broth. “It’s hydrating and has nutrients. Just no flavor.”

“Realize you were masochist I did not.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’m not. It’s bland enough not to upset my stomach.”

Yoda stuck his tongue out, then took a sip of caff. “Looking better you are. Real food soon you can have.”

“Probably.” He continued to sip. Yoda slid the thermos back over to him with a disgusted expression. Jitters watched him sip, shaking his head. Kressa filled up the water and tea carafes, then sat down to join them for a while, planning to go to a kata class later that morning.

At half past tenth hour there was a knock on the door and a monk poked his head in.

“Good morning!”

Yoda turned to greet him. “Good morning it is, Brother Folli. Come to join us you have?”

Folli came in, smiling broadly, with a satchel over one shoulder. “Yes. Brother Artin said there was an ill young man who needed a shave.”

Yoda nodded, then turned to Obi-Wan. “Brother Folli is barber at rest home. Tame forest on face he can.”

Obi-Wan looked both embarrassed and relieved. “I’d do it myself, but I don’t think I can hold up my arms long enough to finish.”

“Ah, that’s my specialty.” The monk came over and tipped Obi-Wan’s chin up, looking his face over from side to side. “Yes, you need a good shave to tame this. Poor thing, it’s gotten away from you. How do you usually wear it?”

“Clean shaven.”

“Well, that’s easiest. Clean slate. You can experiment with facial hair later.”

“I’m still trying to figure out the hair on my head.”

Yoda snorted. Folli stepped back to let Obi-Wan get up and followed him to the refresher, ready to steady him if needed. “It’s a good color and you have a good face for it.”

“It itches.”

“Relax, young traveler. Brother Folli will get you back to normal.”

“Thank you, Brother.”

Folli got Obi-Wan set up and sitting on the commode lid, chattering to him while he lathered him up and then shaved him. He was just finishing up when the apartment door opened again and Master Si walked in, holding the door open for Master Bes on his scooter.

“Simet, Bes, welcome you back I do.”

Si closed the door, then came over to Yoda, patting his back before sitting on a folding chair. Jitters vacated the armchair to allow Master Bes to sit more comfortably.

“Came back you did,” Yoda patted his hand, obviously delighted. “Good to see you it is. No scooter today?”

Si laid his walking staff on the floor, under the caff table. “I needed the exercise.”

Bes had settled into the armchair, smiling his thanks at Jitters. “How is our patient today?”

“Much better he is. Folli helping him is.”

“Brother Artin said he woke up last night and was coherent?” Si asked.

“Yes, brain intact is. Still tired he is.”

“Of course,” Bes piped up. “Poor dear.”

Si was peering closely at Yoda, feeling him with the Force. “Well, at least you got _some_ sleep, but you feel like you still need a nap today.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Sleep better tonight I will.”

“Ah, there he is,” Bes exclaimed as Obi-Wan came out of the fresher, Brother Folli at his side, his face much more familiar looking.

“Aww,” Kressa frowned. “I think the beard suited you.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer until he was back on the couch. “Dried mud and matted hair are just not my style.” He looked surprised to see the elder masters. “My apologies for not being properly dressed.”

“Bah,” Bes waved a hand. “You’re the guest of honor at a vigil. Pajamas are all the rage.”

“Did you need to be anywhere, Master?” Si asked, letting him know he could be counted on to hold down the fort if needed.

“Coming Eller is at 13:00, Council business. Enjoy your company I can for now.

Obi-Wan peered around the room. “Did everyone get to know each other while I was unconscious, or should I introduce anyone?”

Master Bes chuckled. “I’ve met Kressa before, but I didn’t catch your name, young man,” he nodded at Jitters. “I’m Master Bes and this is Master Si.” Si nodded.

“Knight Norwal. Call me Jitters. I work in Engineering mostly, but sometimes I get sent out on major projects. What do you do?”

“Nothing,” Si scoffed. “We’re old and retired.”

Bes rolled his eyes. Yoda kicked Si gently in the knee.

“I used to be a diplomat. Negotiated treaties, tried to calm down hot spots. Master Si used to teach saber technique, even after he retired as Battlemaster. But he’s right, we don’t actually work much anymore.”

“Really?” Jitters looked confused. “I thought the Battlemaster before Master Drallig had died.”

“He did. You’re thinking of Master Laelen. I’m Master Silvanus. Worked before Laelen.”

“Oh!” Jitters’ eyes widened. “I, um, learned about you in some of my engineering classes.”

Si snorted. “Yes, well, I did tend to give engineering interesting challenges.”

“I _know_!” Jitters nodded. “There was a whole lecture about just your control gloves and not underestimating the input/output magnitudes in strong Force users. They would ask the class what the maximum number of independently controlled objects a Jedi could manipulate simultaneously, and then they would show clips of your battle droids flying. No one would even get close to ten.”

“I guess I got off easy,” Obi-Wan smiled. “I thought there were seven.”

“I could only do ten with the gloves,” Si conceded, holding up his shaking hands. “Only ten fingers. It took a long time to make the switch to the telekinetic set up. I would normally use anywhere from four to eight; I don’t usually need more to accomplish most goals, but when I was really in practice I’d go as high as twelve, maybe fourteen at once.” He shrugged. “But that was when I did it every day. And when Coruscant had trees.”

“Master Bert taught us about the _Silvanus Principle_ ,” Jitters reported. “That Jedi will adapt over time and learn to handle more signal or generate more output, more so than typical non-Force users, and to build extra capacity into the design.”

“Yes, that was usually the reason for redesigns.” Si sighed. “I imagine I was quite the pain in the ass.”

“Master Bert said you used to push the envelope. When he’d make similar devices for other users, it would urge them to push their limits if they knew others could work at higher levels.”

Bes and Yoda laughed. Si looked slightly embarrassed.

“What kind of things do you adapt?” Kressa asked.

“I work with user interfaces in general, so all sorts of things. Right now, I’m working on adapting the cockpit of the next generation of starfighters to be easily customized by pilots of varying Force strengths and proficiencies. Some pilots can only handle one set of guns and the controls simultaneously, but usually at higher speeds than a non-Force user, so the guns get hotter faster, so it’s more efficient to make them able to switch out gun banks with one switch, not multiple steps, or to have the system switch for them. Alternately, some Jedi are more comfortable manipulating multiple firing banks at once. Some use their hands for one and the Force for the other. There are ways to capitalize on that ability to split focus and make it not only easier, but more efficient. So that’s one thing I’m working on. The trick it to make a design that makes best use of Force talents, but one that can also be used by a standard user without the Force, or a stronger or weaker user. Poodoo happens, so you can’t always count on just one person always piloting the same ship.”

“Once they get the hang of that you’ll probably need to do the same for ships normally run by multiple crew,” Si mused. “If they can split focus one a one-man ship, they’ll learn the run a multi soon after.”

Jitters blinked, stunned. “Damn.”

Bes laughed. “It doesn’t seem like that big a leap. I’ve never tried anything fancy in a multi-crew ship, like getting into a dog fight, but I’ve made adjustments without getting up from the main chair when I was holding down the bridge all alone.”

Jitters slumped, realizing his design problem had just grown exponentially. He glanced at Si. “I see why Master Bert named the principle after _you_.”

The whole room cracked up, with the exception of Si, who looked concerned.

“Are today’s knights not accustomed to splitting their focus? It’s a fundamental skill.”

Kressa looked surprised.

Jitters held up his hands. “If Master Bert hadn’t show us the vids, I’d never believe a person could pilot ten droids without an advanced A.I.”

Simet rolled his eyes. “They never should have removed Breggle from the curriculum, Master.”

“Agree I do,” Yoda sighed. “Outvoted I was.”

“Master Silvanus?” Kressa held up a hand to get his attention.

Si gave Obi-Wan a suspicious look. “Are your manners contagious?” He turned back to Kressa. “Master Si is fine. Yes?”

She bit her lip. “Master Gi-Ho was here last night and he, um, recommended I ask you and Master Yoda if you could demonstrate Breggle for us? I’m studying Niman, and he said Breggle was a good way to practice the telekinetic skills in some of the more advanced techniques.”

Si peered at her, wondering if Gi-Ho had set him up for something, but Force knew what. “If you’re studying Niman, the person you _should_ be asking is Master Bes over there,” he nodded at Bes, who promptly blushed. “ _He_ is known as the Master of Ricochet. But yes, Breggle is a very good way to build the control, capacity and fundamental skills.”

“Breggle like they play in the creche?” Jitters asked.

“Yes, Breggle,” Obi-Wan answered. “Definitely _not_ the way they play in the creche.”

Yoda looked at Si. “Set up game we could. Set of stones here there is.”

“Yes, we were going to demonstrate for your young friend here,” Si nodded at Obi-Wan. “Should we invite him to play?”

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “No Force use until the healers say so.”

“That’s probably for the best then.” Si turned to Kressa and Jitters. “Do either of you play?” Both shook their heads. Si rolled his eyes. “What are they teaching these young people?”

Yoda raised an eyebrow, then pointed at Jitters. “Engineering.” Then Kressa. “Diplomacy.” Then Obi-Wan. “Saber technique.”

“Well, they’re overdue for Breggle.” He turned to Bes. “Do you want to play?”

“Me?” Master Bes often played with the monks, nuns and other retirees, but Yoda and Si’s games tended to exceed his skill level. “I can keep up with Ospen and Denna, but you two put the rest of us to shame.”

Yoda shrugged. “Only demonstration game is. Competitive Breggle not.”

“You didn’t mention Competitive Breggle, Master,” Obi-Wan perked up with curiosity.

“Next level is. Learn dances first. Plenty of games just dances are. In competitive Breggle, both players dance, try to steal stones from each other. Both ways fun are.”

Si gestured at Yoda. “Don’t let his innocent little face fool you, he is a ruthless stone stealer.”

“Had ruthless to be. Very skilled you are.” Yoda looked to Obi-Wan. “Still have stones you do?”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan turned and pointed. “The crate is next to the bookcase.”

Yoda immediately went to it, touching the side. “Hmm, practicing you have been.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “A little. I still can’t get the click thing.”

“Clicks hard to master, yes, but once you do, keep skill you will.” He levitated the crate, moving it to sit on the floor in front of the caff table. Si had stood up and pushed the empty folding chairs a bit further back, then gracefully sat down on one end of the throw rug. Master Yoda pulled a meditation mat from the box he had brought from home to cushion himself further, then sat at the other end. The young knights looked on with interest.

“What should we demonstrate, Master?” Si asked.

Yoda thought a moment. “Taught Obi-Wan Stellar Dance for one player I did. Show him more complex version we could, how multiple people play.”

“That’s a good place to start.” Si opened the box. “Were these Master Dedrin’s?”

“They were.”

Si found the mesh bag of stones Obi-Wan had used before and poured them out into the center of the rug, then began sorting them into neat piles by size and color with the Force.

Jitters stared, trying to get a rough count. “That is more than ten stones per person, even if Master Bes plays.”

“It is,” Si conceded. “I wasn’t planning to limit myself to ten stones.”

Jitters looked incredulous. “Wait, you’re going to move more than ten objects independently with the Force at the same time?”

Si gave him a disbelieving look. “Yes.” He pointed at Obi-Wan. “Your buddy here managed ten stones on his second try. I’ve been playing Breggle for . . .” he winced. “A century. So yes, I’m certainly going to move more than ten independent objects, which are not going to just move individually, but also in concert with each other.” He turned back to the piles and spread them out until each color was in a single layer and separated from the others. “It’s certainly easier than piloting droids.”

Yoda had dug through the cubbies and pulled out several black rubber balls, which he also placed on the rug. Si waited until he had caught his master’s eye and they bowed their heads to each other before Si gestured for Yoda to go first. Yoda bounced a black ball, making it stop several feet over his head, and Si did the same. They each began populating their model galaxies with stars, planets, and moons, but much less ordered and rigidly than Obi-Wan had done. The different systems spun with different orbits, at different angles and even at different speeds. The outermost moons and planets even crossed the borders between Si and Yoda’s galaxies, lending a hint of drama: would the stones collide? Soon the two masters had a lively, complex dance spinning over their heads. Si had small star systems orbiting close, and larger more expansive systems spinning further out, the outermost planets passing over Jitters’ and Kressa’s heads. Yoda’s systems were more uniform in size, spinning in a more compact space, but the relative speed of the objects varied greatly, and the systems were very heterogeneous. Some were simple, stripped down, bare. One planet was followed by a flock of moons and satellites that followed it around its sun like a sweeping veil. Another was a binary system, the planets orbiting not one glass sun but two, which in turn orbited each other. It was definitely more than ten stones per player.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us, Bes?’’ Si asked. “We could use some more comets and asteroids.”

Jitters stared up in awe and dismay, realizing he did not have the faintest grasp of how far Force control could be pushed. Kressa looked up in amazement. Obi-Wan alternated between watching distinct sections with a keen eye and closing his eyes to sense the movements with the Force.

Bes shrugged, trying not to show how flattered he was to be invited for all that it was just a demonstration. “Um, maybe one or two.” He picked up a small red stone with the Force and held it a few inches above the rug, letting it twist and tumble in his Force grasp as he tried to decide how to fit into the complex dance above them. Si held out a shaky hand, tracing a trajectory that would serve as an entry point and Bes nodded his head in thanks, sending the glass stone along the same line, then following carefully in his mind as it danced among the constantly churning systems until he found a comfortable orbit that would not result in a collision.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and sat up straighter. “You’re passing stones back and forth between you. Not the big ones, but some of the planets and moons.”

“We are,” Yoda confirmed. “Cooperative Breggle this is, Competitive Breggle not.”

“In Competitive Breggle we would try to snatch stones or even whole systems from each other without dropping the ones we already have. Or one player would set up a large system and others would try to snatch away stones or set up collisions to knock them out of orbit instead of just dancing through them as Master Bes is doing.” Bes had managed to set a second stone in a complex dance, weaving it back and forth between Si’s stones and Yoda’s.

“Also can play like Obi-Wan did with me, but with more players. One person hold center can, each player make different systems can, all orbit same center. Pass stones back and forth, extra challenge is to drop shared stones not.”

“Passing can be a difficult skill to learn, because it’s so dependent on who your partner is.”

“Very good training is for field partner cooperation.” Yoda looked at Kressa. “Try with Vos you should. Passing with Force more useful than throwing and catching, yes?”

“There is no way I can move that many at once!” Kressa protested.

Yoda snorted. “Start small you must. Large number impressive in game, but smaller number big difference in field make.”

“What’s your maximum number of stones?” Jitters asked.

Yoda shrugged. “Don’t know. Counted I have not.”

“It depends on what you are trying to make the stones do. You asked about moving the stones independently. Any one of them can be moved independently and individually,” he dropped one bright sun dramatically out of its orbit, having it continue horizontally but dipping down toward the rug before returning to its place to demonstrate. “But in reality, most dances have them moving in complex groups or units, moving in relation to each other or in formation. Some maneuvers are easier than others, so they aren’t moving independently in the sense than an equal amount of effort is required for each one. They are still part of a whole, and when you play with others, you are sharing the load.” To illustrate this, one of Si’s smaller systems suddenly twisted away, its round orbit taking a turn into an S-shape as it began moving around Yoda’s center instead. After another few rotations, one of Yoda’s systems followed suit and began to move around Si’s center. Bes gasped in surprise, dropping his comets down close to the floor and watching the new pattern for several minutes before his stones rejoined the dance one by one.

“My apologies, Bes. I’ll warn you next time.”

Bes nodded, smiling grimly as he narrowly avoided a collision before getting back on track. “I’m just glad I didn’t knock anything out of the game.”

“Doing fine you are.”

“That’s really beautiful,” Kressa gave up trying to figure out _how_ the stones were moved and instead sat back and enjoyed the dance.

Jitters looked up at the stones, then the players in turn. “Is this level of play . . . typical for Jedi?”

Yoda and Si shared a look and shrugged.

Bes chuckled. “No. These two are _not_ typical, they are master players, but some of the other residents at the home are. Even those of us with more average Force abilities for Jedi regularly move more than ten stones at a time, but we’re old and have more free time than activities to fill that time, so we get in a lot of practice. It might be a good model for you of equipment Jedi are training on with differing abilities, but you’d know that better than I would.”

Jitters looked up at the stones, following one path then another. “That is a good idea. I need to talk to Master Bert.”

Yoda looked at Obi-Wan. “Get you to play we must when feeling better you are. Teach your young friends you can.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest that he didn’t think there would be that much interest.

“Yes, please!” Kressa blurted out.

Yoda smiled at the three knights, then leaned over to Obi-Wan. “Less intimidating you are than crusty old masters.”

“I barely know one dance.”

“Went through basics we did. Review we can after appointments with healers.”

Both Kressa and Jitters looked interested. Si caught Bes’s look and rolled his eyes. Bes stifled a laugh.

* * *

A healer arrived at noon, just as another pair of neighbors stopped by with a sandwich spread and salads. Obi-Wan’s stomach actually growled, to the delight of the healer, who then coated his stomach, removed the nasogastric tube, and gave him some much less appetizing fruit gelatin instead.

“If that goes down well, try some tea and toast this afternoon, maybe some soup tonight. Eat small, frequent meals throughout the day, keep drinking water and clear fluids, nothing too dry, crunchy or acidic for the rest of the week. Glad to see you’re doing much better.”

“I’m glad to be awake and coherent.”

“Thank the Force. The next time you start puking and it doesn’t stop, come see us. The dehydration is usually more harmful than the disease and even if it’s just anxiety and not a Jedi-killing monster stomach bug, we can at least give you fluids, so you feel less wretched and don’t get seriously ill.”

“Yes, Healer. I’ll do that.” He frowned. “What happens if I get this way in the field? I didn’t even know I had an infection.”

The healer raised an eyebrow. “You know, Master Drallig is not the only Jedi who gives Knight level workshops.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I should have known that.”

“Eh, your I.Q. should return to normal when you’ve gotten enough rest. If it doesn’t, well, that’s why we want a neuro evaluation.” Obi-Wan looked up at her in alarm. She held up her hands. “I think you’re just fine. You are exhibiting a normal level of post-illness stupid.” She leaned in close, smiling conspiratorially. “If it were more serious, you can bet Master Yoda would be all over that, but we checked you too. We’re pretty sure you’re fine, but we like to check in after major illness or injury anyway. Gives us a good baseline data set in the event you do get a concussion.”

“I was going to try to come by tomorrow.”

“Bring a buddy. Try again the next day if you get too tired. We can send over a hoverchair or scooter if you want.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“The Force restriction is driving you nuts, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Consider it an incentive. Also, your shields are much better than at your last check.” She began gathering up her equipment. “Try to take a nap every day for the next few days but keep staying around people. It’s helping you heal faster.”

“I will. Thank you.”

By the time Obi-Wan finished his not-as-terrible-as-it-looked gelatin cup, Eller had come to pick up Master Yoda and Bant had arrived, looking dry and flustered. Si and Bes looked on in amusement as Obi-Wan was thoroughly hugged by his piscine companion.

“It’s okay, Bant. I’m getting better.”

“You’d better be!” Bant finally released him so she could thoroughly look him over. “You look terrible. You’re all pale and blotchy.”

“My blood pressure is still low. It will pick up when I start moving around more.”

“And you skin is all dry.”

“So is yours,” Obi-Wan looked a bit alarmed. “Do you need to use the shower?”

Bant shook her head. “The ship I was on was very dry.” She pulled out a large tube of moisturizer and began rubbing it into her arms and skin, then practically pounced on Obi-Wan, dabbing his hands with the cream and wondering aloud what he should put on his face because his lips were peeling. Master Bes cracked up as Obi-Wan rather ineffectually tried to stop her.

“Dry lips are normal after a fever. I’m regenerating, I promise!”

Bant looked to the masters for confirmation and Bes laughed harder.

“Dry skin is usually much less dangerous for humans than for Mon Calamari,” Si assured her. “Of all the ill effects, it’s mostly cosmetic.”

“It looks terrible,” Bant began moisturizing his hands in earnest. Obi-Wan silently thanked the Force that he was wearing socks.

“Don’t put it on his face or lips,” Si advised. “The wrong creams can cause breakouts.”

“It will be fine, Bant.”

“Should I bring a pumice stone for your face instead?”

“No!”

Bes took one look at the pair of them and was set off again. “Pumice stone,” he wheezed.

“Pumice is for the feet, not faces,” Si shook his head. “He will be fine. It’s only the outer layer peeling and he just needs a good scrub. It’s probably just a reaction to the soap the healers use on bed-bound patients, or to the mud he got on himself on his mission. A good lip balm should be sufficient to clear up the worst of it.”

Obi-Wan looked at Si. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yes!” Bant argued, rubbing another dollop of cream into his arm.

“No,” Si assured him. “Just keep drinking water.”

“And exfoliate,” Bes barely managed to get it out.

Obi-Wan sighed and opted to just surrender his other arm. At least it was helping Bant calm down and feel useful.

* * *

Quinlan Vos popped in mid-afternoon to find Obi-Wan asleep, leaning heavily onto the shoulder of a large, blond man and a Dreselian in the armchair, chowing down on an enormous sandwich.

“Hi,” the blond knight spoke quietly. “Garen Muln.”

“Quinlan Vos.” He waved rather than offering a handshake. “Glad to see he’s getting a nap. Did Master Bes leave?”

“The Kiffar master?”

Quinlan nodded to confirm.

“He and the other one went to Stores with Bant to get some skin care products. She said we were useless because we suggested _soap_. They were going home after but volunteered to keep her anxiety orders in check.”

“Skin care?”

“Oh, she’s a Mon Calamari mother hen. She can’t handle Obi-Wan’s ‘excessive skin peeling.’ Which admittedly would be bad for an aquatic species, but dry lips aren’t all that serious in a human. Multiple humans assured her. She still freaked.”

Reeft shrugged. “It would probably help if she actually had lips herself. Also, Obi-Wan got sick from bad water. She’s decided humans are much too fragile if that’s all it takes to kill us.”

Quinlan wrinkled his nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Moisturizer,” Reeft shook his head while Garen snickered. “She covered every inch she could reach in Mon Cal grade moisture cream. Garen had to hold his water bottle because it kept slipping out of his grasp.”

Quin laughed, despite himself. “Kressa said you guys were crechemates?”

“Yes, we were in the same clan together with Bant. I’m stationed in the Orbiting Dock Complex, so I don’t get back to Coruscant much, and Reeft does a lot of intel gathering for the Senate Liaison’s office, so our missions don’t tend to overlap.” He frowned. “Obi-Wan said you and Knight Carlin did the Aldera Biennial together without any masters?”

“Yeah.”

Garen whistled, impressed.

“There was a distinct possibility one or more of the Organas would be visiting this week?”

“They’re coming tomorrow,” Reeft confirmed. “Eller called to make the arrangements with Obi-Wan this afternoon.”

Garen frowned. “So, Obes is hanging out with Master Yoda _and_ his assistant, _and_ retired Jedi, and is also rubbing elbows with the _Organas_?”

Reeft shrugged. “Apparently.”

Garen looked puzzled. “This does not seem normal, even for a diplomat.”

Quin snickered. Technically _he_ was also classed as a Jedi diplomat and his friends in general were much younger, poorer, scruffier and less influential.

Reeft rolled his eyes. “The older masters are Yoda’s friends.” He ate more of his sandwich. “And you have to stop thinking of Master Yoda as the grandmaster. He’s Obi-Wan’s _other_ master.”

“It’s still weird. And it doesn’t explain the Organas.”

Reeft gave a long-suffering sigh. “Garen, do you remember when Master Qui-Gon and Master Rhee ran the summit with Knight Jerrold and he gave you and Obi _the Rules_ and two years later _I_ went to the summit and he gave me and Obi _the Rules_ , but when he had to run it with Knight Xerin, he just told him not to be a shameless slut?”

“Yeah,” Garen obviously could not see where this was going. Quinlan covered his mouth, laughing.

Reeft closed his eyes and took a cleansing breath, more fed up with Garen being out of the loop than usual. “Well, let me give you another clue. One of those three padawans is genetically a member of the Elder House of Antilles. Three guesses which one.”

Garen blinked. “Oh.” He blinked again. “So, the Organas are . . .”

“Cousins,” Quinlan confirmed. “The queen publically acknowledged it at the Summit this year.”

Garen frowned. “So, if Obes murdered the entire Organa and Antilles families, he could take the throne?”

“Nope,” Quinlan chuckled. “He’s a bastard. But the princesses were trying to get him to sit for an official portrait the next time he visits.”

Garen leaned over to get a better look at Obi-Wan’s face. “Well, Bant was right. He _will_ need the lip balm.” All three of them cracked up while Obi-Wan slept on. Quinlan wasn’t used to seeing him this relaxed.

“Um, forgive me for asking,” he gestured to Obi-Wan and Garen. “But are you and Obi-Wan an item?”

Garen looked stunned by the question. Reeft deliberately stopped chewing and swallowed so he wouldn’t choke from laughter.

“I’m his pillow if that counts,” Garen said at last.

Reeft laughed harder. “Garen runs hotter than the rest of us. He’s always been the pillow when one of our group got sick. Except Chuli, she has spines. And Siri, she thinks being cold is a weakness.”

Garen rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I was going to ask you the same thing. Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to date when he was a padawan. You and um, Kressa was it? You’re on the friend wall and in the folder, so I was hoping at least one of you was, um, a _special_ friend.”

“Um, no. Not that either of us are opposed, but I don’t think he’s interested.”

Reeft shrugged. “It’s Obi-Wan. Who can tell?”

“I know about the friend wall, but what’s the folder?”

Reeft pointed at a large folder sitting on Obi-Wan’s work bench. “He started drawing again on his last rest period. He draws his friends sometimes from memory, but usually asks if he’s drawing from life.”

Quin raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Garen shrugged. “He was showing Master Bes and um, the other one?”

“Master Si?”

“Yes, they were discussing techniques.”

Quinlan was sorry to have missed _that_ conversation. He itched to look in the folder, but it seemed rude to do so without permission. He’d wait for Obi-Wan to wake up. “You said Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to date?”

Reeft sipped at his tea. “Master Qui-Gon only let him go out in groups, no individual dates. Even when he was twenty years old and more. He was very suspicious of anyone who was interested in Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan never did anything to encourage anyone, he wouldn’t have had _friends_ if he did, and if he _was_ interested in anyone, he rarely talked about it.”

“Kress heard he might have been involved with a girl named Satine?”

Garen and Reeft shared a look. “Ah, _Satine_.” They cracked up.

Garen wiped his eyes. “Obes definitely had a crush on Satine, but he was only what, seventeen then?”

“Yep,” Reeft agreed. “And _Satine_ is better known as _Duchess Kryze of Mandalore_. He and Master Qui-Gon spent the better part of a year protecting her when she was a refugee from her own planet. He was a Jedi, sworn to protect her. And even if he had been of age, he respected her and her position too much to do anything.”

“But yeah, _big_ crush.” Garen rolled his eyes. “We did get a little sick of hearing about how brave and intelligent she was.”

“Yeah,” Reeft agreed. “The way to Obi-Wan’s heart is through his brain.”

“Or his padawan braid,” Garen mused.

“Well, that’s over.”

The door opened and Bant came in, carrying a large package from Stores. “Do you know what type of skin Obi normally has on his face?” she asked. “Stores wasn’t sure what he would use if his skin isn’t normally flaky.”

Garen shrugged with the shoulder Obi-Wan wasn’t leaning on. “Shaved?”

“Not wrinkled?” Reeft offered.

“Normal?” Quinlan suggested.

Bant gave the lot of them a wide-eyed fishy glare. “You boys are no help at all.”

* * *

Yoda returned to the vigil after dinner hour to find the patient slowly working through a small bowl of soup and toast. Master Tahl and Bant were enjoying a hot casserole that another neighbor had brought over. Bant offered to make him up a plate. He thanked her, then pulled himself up on the couch to look Obi-Wan over.

“Real food you are eating. How feel you?”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan sipped at his soup. “I’m still tired and I have to go slow.”

Yoda waited for him to put down his spoon before reaching for his hand, feeling his Force presence, temperature and pulse rate. “Hmm, better you feel in the Force, yes.” He stretched to look Obi-Wan in the eye. “Yes, much better you look. Good day with friends you had?”

“It was nice to see people when I wasn’t falling asleep on them.”

“He took a nice nap on Knight Muln,” Bant explained, holding out a bowl of steaming casserole which Yoda accepted with thanks.

“Bad dreams you have?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Reeft said I started mumbling about insects but apparently humans are not appetizing to Dailfo gnats because they didn’t bite, only pestered me.

“Prefer iron-rich blood they do not,” he sighed. “Been there I once was. Very tasty Yoda is. Itched for days.”

“Well, even with the uninterested gnats, I don’t recommend it. Hostile locals.”

“Healer checks okay?”

“Yes, no signs of trouble. I’m going to ty to get my neuro screening done tomorrow, before Bail and Rouge come by in the afternoon. Eller said you told them about the vigil?”

Yoda shook his head. “Garbled message she did. No. Call _you_ they did. Got vigil message, very worried. Explain I did, dying you were not.” He patted Obi-Wan’s knee. “Tell all your friends that sick you are I did not.”

“Thank you for explaining.” He turned to Bant. “Rouge is very well-versed in human grooming techniques. I’m sure she will know how to unchap my lips.”

Yoda gave Obi-Wan an odd look. The young man did not feel completely back to normal yet, and the last statement made him worry. He felt reassurance in the Force from Tahl and realized there was quite a bit of poorly shielded anxiety coming from Bant.

“She’ll know what to use?”

Obi-Wan gestured to the friend wall. “She made Kressa look like a princess and gave Quinlan a dewy complexion, and she is a celebrity on Alderaan. She’ll know.”

Yoda relaxed. “Fancy hairdos on Alderaan are. Those giant buns, make them how they do?”

“Hair extensions,” Obi-Wan smiled. “Her actual hair is not that long.”

Yoda sighed. “Disappointing that is.” He picked at his casserole. “Good time you had with Si and Bes?”

“Yes, Master, I did. They talked with Kressa about some Niman techniques and Master Si recommended some short art workshops the next time I’m on a healthy rest period.”

“Always more to learn there is.”

“I asked about his work. He was very vague about it.”

“Much work in Archives there is. Cannot paint anymore, upset him this does. Does not like to discuss own work as much as art in general. Always modest there. If want to see Si’s work, ask Bes you should. Goes to Temple exhibits every week he does. Keeps eye out for Si’s work.”

“Archives works with the Art Department. I could have Norris give you both the heads up,” Tahl offered.

“Thank you.”

“Some of his work I have. Show you when visit next time you do.” He settled a bit on the couch, eating his casserole. “Also, some works in training center since Battlemaster he was. Large painting over main salle. Several portraits of Battlemasters. Master Burrells, Master Laelen, self-portrait, Cin. In hallway between salles and classrooms. Hmm, also some outside Meadow Garden. Took _plein air_ class, when on rest period whole series did. Very prolific he was. When had padawan not, paint every night he would.”

“That’s . . . a lot of painting.”

“It is.” Yoda picked up the cold tea Bant had poured for him and took a sip. “Good mentor he is for artists and swordsman, even after no longer either does. Very observant, skilled at bringing talents to surface in others.”

“Master Bes almost seemed more knowledgeable about his work than he was.”

Tahl laughed. “He probably is.”

“Are the two of them a couple? I’ve only seen them together twice, so it’s hard to tell.”

“No!” Tahl chortled, then stopped, realizing how long it had been since she had visited with either one before the vigil. “Well, I don’t think so.”

Yoda looked up at him speculatively. “Hrmm, sense that you can too?” He sipped his tea. “Not yet. _Soon_ though I think. Long time coming is.”

“Really?” Tahl asked, delighted. “I know Master Bes has been rather enamored with him for a long time, but I didn’t think Master Si reciprocated the feeling.”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Oblivious he is. Large age gap. Never considered Bes interested might be.” He shook his head. “Thinks Simet does that old everyone sees him as. Remembers everyone else as young does. Heh. Everyone old now is. Not so big a gap when retired. Why chase young buck when both silver foxes are?”

Bant looked slightly disturbed to be discussing the mating habits of old mammals. Tahl looked puzzled.

“What is it you see?” she asked, wondering if they had been making goo-goo eyes at each other in front of her face. Still, Gi-Ho probably would have mentioned _that_.

“Their paths are intertwining, I think.” Obi-Wan frowned. “I can’t tell if they have a bond, I’m usually not very good at picking that out, but they had a friendship and it appeared much stronger today than the last time I visited. They felt more like casual acquaintances then. I couldn’t tell if they were drawing closer over time or were just more discreet at a public tea.”

Yoda cackled. “Retired Jedi discreet are not. No time commitments, attachment much less risk, fear pregnancy not. Heh, see more action they do than new knights.”

“Ah,” Tahl sighed. “The reward for surviving until retirement.”

Bant rolled her eyes. “It’s hard to imagine spawning that often.”

Tahl raised an eyebrow in Bant’s general direction. “We old people don’t spawn. We fuck. And don’t think I don’t know about Mon Calamari non-procreative bonding behaviors. I gave you your S-training. With a rebreather.”

Obi-Wan and Yoda shared a look, clearly feeling this was more than they needed to know.

“I suppose. But why is there a drive to do it more when the fertile age is over?”

“Getting old for sissies is not,” Yoda declared. “Whether mammal, or fish, or,” he looked down at himself. “Lizard. For many species sex about bonding is. Procreation works better if cooperate parents do.”

Obi-Wan turned his attention back to his soup. Tahl giggled quietly at the thought of Bes’s long-term crush finally being reciprocated. Bant wondered if she would get back to her homeworld for the spawning season next cycle or if she would just attend a local event.

“Healers still want you on vigil?” Yoda asked.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sipped more soup. “Today and tomorrow. They’ll decide at my exam if they think I need it longer, but they think I can drop down to twice daily check ins by then, just to make sure I’m staying hydrated and I’m not relapsing.”

“You’re less pale than you were this morning,” Bant looked him over critically.

“That’s good,” Tahl told her. “Just don’t get upset if his peeling skin gets worse before it gets better. It has to all come off, and it doesn’t all separate at once.”

“Yes, lizard he is not.”

Bant and Obi-Wan shared a look, curious as to whether the tiny master shed his skin or not, but neither was willing to ask.

“You can’t just peel it off?”

“I don’t want to rip off the live stuff too,” he explained. Bant looked horrified. Obi-Wan held up a placating hand. “Rouge will know.”

Yoda chuckled, digging into his casserole. “Solid food you are eating. Meditate you will tonight?”

“I was going to try before bed.”

“Help you want?” It was not uncommon to start with a shared meditation after a bad illness, particularly after fever or neurological effects.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Master. You’ve done so much for me already, and I’m sure I’ve been keeping you from things you—”

Yoda calmly picked up his fork and gently poked Obi-Wan just above the knee with the tines. The knight immediately fell silent. Yoda peered at the spot intently. “No juices. Done you are?”

Obi-Wan took a deliberate breath. Yoda gazed up at him, his expression clearly demanding that Obi-Wan cut the crap. “Help you want?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

Yoda patted his knee gently, though he hadn’t poked him hard enough to hurt. “Gentle with self be. Time it will take until normal again. Rush not.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Shared meditation burden is not. Missed you I have.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ve missed you too.”

“Good.” Yoda dug his fork back into his bowl. “Worry not. Waste of time you are not. Vigil time for healing is, but also for friendships to strengthen. Waste _that_ not.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Show you sign up list someone did?” Yoda asked.

“Yes, Kressa did. I followed the healer’s recommendations and agreed to request a buddy and motorchair for my appointment. I suspect they are going to stick me on the treadmill, and I don’t want to sleep all afternoon.”

Yoda glanced in the direction of the friend wall. “Yes, foolish to sleep during Princess visit. Wake up with makeup you would.”

“If Celly were coming there would be hair bows too.”

There was a light tapping on the door and Master Gi-Ho stuck his head in. “Ah, he’s awake.”

“He is,” Tahl agreed. “He’s even coherent and fussing about what a bother he thinks he’s been.”

“Bah,” Gi-Ho waved a hand dismissively as he came in and sat on a folding chair. “Yesterday he was no bother at all, we just socialized around him.” He nodded to Yoda, then Obi-Wan. “You _are_ looking a lot better in the Force.”

“I’m feeling better. Still tired.”

Gi-Ho frowned. “You look a little stiff.”

Obi-Wan shrugged as he put his soup bowl on the caff table and picked up his ever-present water bottle. Someone had decorated it with stickers of pekos dressed as Jedi when he had been sleeping. “I’m just not moving enough yet.”

Gi-Ho dished up a plate of casserole. “I can help you with that if you want.”

“Say yes,” Tahl advised. “Gi-Ho’s got magic hands.”

Gi-Ho chuckled. “I teach a therapeutic massage class with the healers every year.” He sat back down. “Even Master Drallig is willing to be _my_ teaching assistant that week.”

“Many volunteers are,” Yoda agreed.

“Um, my shoulders are a bit tight, thank you.”

“No problem,” Gi-Ho sat down to eat. “We’ll get you fixed right up.”

When the healer arrived for the evening check, he was rather amused to find the patient getting a shoulder massage from the talented Master Gi-Ho.

“Ooh, me next! Me next!” He grinned as he pushed in the motorchair and plugged it in to recharge. Obi-Wan murmured something about thanking him for the chair but did not lift his head. The healer laughed, checked the readouts, and put the urine sample Obi-Wan had left through the analyzer, doing all the other tests before interrupting the patient’s much-needed therapy.

“I’ll make a note that Master Gi-Ho may have altered your blood pressure reading,” he chuckled as he took Obi-Wan’s vital signs. “Solid food staying down okay?”

“Mushy food. I dipped my toast in my soup, but yes, everything seems to be moving in the correct direction.”

The healer used a stethoscope to listen to his heart, lungs and bowels. “Good, good. You should probably start having bowels movements again tomorrow. Let us know if you don’t or if anything is weird about it. There’s no sign of inflammation, you just haven’t eaten much lately.”

“Stomach healing is?” Yoda asked.

The healer reached out a hand to scan the organ in question. Even after a full day Obi-Wan found it a bizarre sensation, though not painful. “Hmm, it’s still tender and healing, so take it easy, foodwise. We actually scoped your stomach while you were knocked out and Giri wants to write a paper on it, because it was pretty gruesome down there. The extra doses of stomach coat and,” he peered at Yoda. “Force healing helped it heal faster and if you keep being gentle with it the next few weeks, it should heal without scarring, which you’ll appreciate when you’re older. You are fully hydrated, _hurray_ , but keep your water intake high and if you don’t start gaining weight back in the next two days, add a daily protein shake or two. Your gut can absorb it easily.” He turned to Yoda. “And please tell your assistant we loved her format for the vigil volunteer page, _and_ that she let the Healer team know about it. No one ever thinks to _tell us_ who is organizing these things and they also don’t think to _ask_ what the patient might need.” He looked back at Obi-Wan. “You already have a buddy for your appointment tomorrow. We won’t have to find some padawan to help you home. I love it!”

Yoda smiled. “Tell her I will. Good brain Eller has.”

“Can we steal her?”

“No.”

“Dang.” The healer pulled out a penlight and finished checking Obi-Wan’s reflexes, then warned it was blood draw time and to look away if that made you faint. Gi-Ho, who was taking this time to brew caff, laughed. Bant remarked that human blood was a weird color and Tahl used the Force to scan a box of chocolates Reeft had brought. (Reeft had very good taste in chocolates). Obi-Wan remained stoic but hoped there would be a few chocolates left by the time he could eat them.

The healer put some of the blood in the analyzer and capped the rest for additional testing in the lab. “Your numbers are all looking better. Keep up the good work. Get some sleep tonight and we’ll see you in the morning.” He gave Gi-Ho a hopeful look as the master leaned down to resume the shoulder massage.

Gi-Ho raised an eyebrow. “Go bribe your boyfriend. He was head of the class.”

The healer sighed. “I really should.” He got up to leave. “Good luck tomorrow, Knight Kenobi. Glad to see you awake and doing better.” He glanced back at Yoda. “Healer Mendl is _so_ excited about the data. She’ll call you later.”

Yoda settled back into the couch, digesting that thought. Obi-Wan sighed as his muscles finally started to loosen.

“Told you,” Tahl smiled. “Magic hands.”

“And lots of practice on cranky saber instructors.”

“Are his shoulders peeling too?” Bant asked, worriedly. “Won’t that rub his skin off?”

Gi-Ho shook his head, opting not to joke as he heard the serious concern in her voice and knew extra care was needed to massage aquatic species. Knight Fisto was particularly blister prone. “No. No peeling there and no tearing. It’s the muscles that are tight.”

“Make meditation easier this will.”

“If I don’t fall asleep.”

“Hee, hee, bad that would not be either.”

“I’ll keep the magic in check,” Gi-Ho offered.

“I’m almost ready for the fork,” Obi-Wan slumped lower.

“What?” Gi-Ho asked.

“Oh!” Yoda’s ears perked up. “Done he almost is. Next me, please!”

Bant cracked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if Yoda's dialogue came out better this time. I didn't take out all the sentence fragments, some of it just casual speech on his part, but hopefully it flows better now.


	12. Part XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bail and Rouge visit, there are makeovers, Obi-Wan shares his art, Master Yoda meddles, Si updates his ID card, Cin asks a favor, and Bes gives a pep talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quoted song lyrics are from the Beatles _With a Little Help From My Friends_. If you are my age (or older) you may be more familiar with Joe Cocker's version, which was the opening theme song from _The Wonder Years_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCrlyX6XbTU

_What would you do if I sang out of tune,_

_Would you stand up and walk out on me?_

_Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,_

_And I'll try not to sing out of key._

_Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends._

\-- Paul McCartney, John Lennon, _With a Little Help From My Friends_

Rouge clasped her gloved hands in her lap to hide her nervousness as the Jedi Temple came into view. Beside her, her brother was calm, but he had been inside the temple before. Their uncle’s assistant had forwarded them the instructions and a short visitor’s guide from someone named Eller, which was much less exacting than the much longer document the embassy had provided. She glanced at her brother, then back at the missive.

_Business casual is the suggested dress for an informal visit. Kenobi won’t mind, but you might run into Jedi you will be working with in the future. Wear shoes you can comfortably walk in, clothes you can comfortably sit in, and dress in layers, the Temple is cold. There will be food available, but if you have a very strict diet, bring a snack for yourself. Please be quiet and respectful in public spaces and don’t wander without an escort. Weapons must be declared. Some may have to be checked to get past the lobby. Don’t lie about weapons. Bags and packages may be scanned or searched. No smoking, vaping or open intoxicants in public areas. (Alcohol is acceptable in residential and some non-public areas, but Kenobi is definitely not up to drinking now). In general, if you wouldn’t bring it to the Senate, you probably shouldn’t bring it to the Temple._

“I hope my clothes are okay,” Rouge sighed as the aircar landed. It was too late to change now.

“You’re fine.” It was easy for him to say. Bail had been working on Coruscant for years. “You’ve been to the Monastery at Vinland. The Main Temple is less uptight but much busier. You still might see some monks, but the knights are much less formal. The kids can be creepy polite though.”

“Worse than nobles?”

“Much. They still teach them all the monk manners, and then you realize they _also_ know how to sword fight and they can kill you.”

Rouge giggled as they stepped out of the car and onto a landing platform, then followed her brother inside. Their driver left to go park the aircar and enjoy a few hours leave.

They entered a small lobby and stood, blinking until their eyes adjusted to the dim. A well-dressed woman came up to them, a questioning look on her face. “Prestor and Rose?”

“Yes,” Bail gave her a charming grin. “Pleased to meet you, um, Jedi?”

“Just Eller,” she shook his hand rather than offering it up for a kiss, clearly signaling business over diplomacy. She also shook Rouge’s hand. “I’m a civil servant, not a Jedi, but if you have any questions, I may know the answer. Did you need help with your bags?”

“No, thank you. I take it we need to check in with the Visitor’s desk?”

“Yes, this way.” She looked them both over, nodding in approval, then shepherded them through the security checkpoint, then up to the main pavilion.

Rouge was awed by the vast size of the space. Most of the places she had visited on Coruscant had felt very cramped.

“I hope your shoes are comfortable. We had you come to the entrance you’re most familiar with, so we’ll have to walk to the other side of the Temple. If you have mobility issues, I can get assistance.”

“Walking is fine,” Bail looked around as they began to walk, noting the art exhibits. “I’ve only ever been in this room to change elevators.”

“I’ve seen you in the Council Tower before.” Eller led them across a beautiful inlaid floor. “This is the Visitor’s Hall, where most of the us go to get from tower to tower. Kenobi lives in the Knights’ Tower.”

“Do you know Knight Kenobi?” Rouge asked.

“A bit,” Eller replied. “I don’t deal with many knights as young as he is. I’m the personal assistant to Masters Windu and Yoda. I had met him when he was a padawan, but I got to know him better after Master Yoda finished his training for his trials.” They reached the Knights Tower lobby and waited for the lift. “He makes appointments with the grandmaster and checks in to find out if Master Yoda will be at the tea salon.”

Bail had stiffened slightly when Eller mentioned who she worked for. “I hope we aren’t bothering you or Grandmaster Yoda.”

Eller shook her head as they entered the lift. “No, you are hardly the first diplomats I’ve guided through the temple. Master Yoda was very pleased that Knight Kenobi has such good friends that they want to visit when he is ill.” They arrived at the floor. “Also, just between us, he loved the crickets the Senator sent.”

Bail and Rouge shared a look. Clearly, they would be sending more crickets after the princess’s panicked comm call.

They exited the lift, Eller explaining the significance of the lantern and that it being set to green meant Knight Kenobi was on the mend and the vigil would likely end soon. Several Jedi nodded at Eller as they passed, but otherwise paid the two royals little attention. Rouge found it very refreshing.

Eventually Eller stopped at a door with a second green lantern and knocked lightly as she opened it and took a quick look inside. Apparently satisfied with whatever she saw, she entered and held the door open for Bail and Rouge.

The room was spare, but homier than Rouge had imagined. The furniture was simple, but had been personalized with throws and pillows, there were carafes of tea and water along with a few snack trays on the caff table as well as folding chairs, which looked as if they were not normally there. Obi-Wan was sitting on a round rug, a throw blanket over his shoulders, working on something intently with an older Jedi with gray and white hair who was sitting across from him. A Kiffar much older than Knight Vos was sitting in the armchair and put a finger to his lips to keep them quiet.

“He’s almost got it this time,” he whispered.

Rouge and Bail couldn’t see exactly what they were doing, but Obi-Wan was clearly concentrating, swinging his hand back and forth. A string of beads dangled just past his fingers moving from left to right and back again, not as a uniform unit, but each bead moving in sequence, tapping into the adjacent bead with an audible click. The result was a series of clicks as the beads moved back and forth in a soothing rhythm. It wasn’t clear what held the beads in position or why it was so difficult to move them just so.

The older Jedi had been swaying his shaking hand to the same rhythm of the beads, teaching the lesson, but he backed off now and let the student go solo. The rhythm was slightly less precise without his guidance, but Obi-Wan continued to shake the beads for several minutes before he let them drop suddenly to the floor with a sigh.

“Much better,” the grey-haired Jedi’s voice was surprisingly deep. “Keep practicing like that. When you’re recovered you can try longer distances and tracks.”

“Thank you for your help, Master Si.”

“Ah, finally,” he looked back at the Kiffar. “He called me by my first name.”

The Kiffar chuckled, then looked back at Eller. “It’s safe now.”

“Hello,” Obi-Wan gave them a smile as he gathered up the beads into a bag. “It’s wonderful to see you. Please, sit down. Master Silvanus was teaching me something now that I’m finally allowed to use the Force again and this is Master,” he paused. “Master Bes. I actually don’t know your surname, Master.”

“Clearly that was my mistake,” Si grumbled.

Bes gave the visitors a sunny grin. “Bes is fine.”

“I’m Bail and this is my sister, Rouge.” Bail waved rather than offering a handshake, not wanting Bes to have to get up, nor sure if Si would want one.

“Yes,” Si stood up much less awkwardly that Obi-Wan had and took the folding chair next to Bes. “We heard there was a delegation coming from Alderaan.”

“Oh?” Bail asked, looking at Obi-Wan.

The still too thin, but less pale knight raised his hands. “Master Yoda is the gossip, not me. I just said some friends were coming.”

“I’m sure Master Yoda just wanted to remind us to use our diplomacy manners,” Master Bes smiled reassuringly. “We’re retired and may have gotten lax.”

“I assure you, Bes. I am the only one in this room with questionable manners.” Si called his cup from the caff table to his hand, took a sip, then sent the cup to rest on a shelf behind him. He looked up at the young royals, who were trying not to look nervous. “Oh, don’t stand on ceremony for us. You’re worried. Go hug him half to death.”

Bail let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

Rouge launched herself at Obi-Wan, hugging him fiercely. “Oh, you look just _terrible_ , and they said they were holding a vigil, I thought you had _died_ or that you were _dying_!”

Obi-Wan gently hugged her back. “I’m okay, getting better. I still have friends over to make sure I don’t sit by myself in the dark, not drinking water.”

Rouge pulled back, looking him over critically. “Your skin is really dry. You need moisturizer.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “I knew you would be just the right person to ask.”

* * *

“Hello, All,” Kressa opened the door, carrying a large dish of poultry, grains and vegetables in a mild sauce. “Lunch is here . . .” she trailed off, taking in the spectacle before her.

Obi-Wan was seated on the couch, his head tipped back, a bright green mud mask covering his face and squash slices over his eyes. Bant was standing behind the couch, peering down at the whole makeover process. Rouge Organa was seated on a folding chair across from him, filing down his fingernails, smoothing the broken edges and cleaning them where the monks had missed. On the other side of the couch, Master Bes was gleefully doing the same for Master Si, who looked very confused as to how this had happened. At just that moment, Bail Organa came out of the kitchen wearing Obi-Wan’s plain black apron, carrying a large carafe of chilled tea.

Kressa stared at him a moment. “Hi.”

“Hello, Knight Carlin.” He put the tea down. “The masters said someone would be bringing lunch, so I made up some tea.”

“And Rouge knew what to do about the peeling skin!” Bant sounded very relieved.

“Apparently I looked like poodoo,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“No talking,” Rouge gently smacked the hand she was working on. “You’ll crack your mask. Let it dry. Then we’ll wash it all off and moisturize you.” She looked up at Bant. “We already exfoliated him, so that helped get rid of the peeling skin. The mask will help clean out his pores and prevent breakouts, and the moisturizer will keep his skin supple until his face returns to normal.”

Bant looked down at the green goo that was slowly hardening into a crisp shell. “You look like that awful Master Yoda puppet that Master Ulli used to use at story time.”

Obi-Wan snorted, trying his best to keep his face from moving. Si barked out a laugh, and Bes had to put down the emery board to just giggle for a moment.

“Why?” Rouge asked, puzzling over the mask.

Si stilled. “I suspect you’re about to find out.”

The door opened and Rouge tried not to startle at the sight of the small, green being who walked in, but no one else seemed surprised.

“Hello, Master Yoda. Did you want to join us for lunch?” Kressa asked.

Rouge stared at the tiny master, fascinated. Bail tried to blend in with the walls.

“Thank you, yes. Help you want?”

Kressa smiled at Bail. “I have a volunteer, Master. Thank you.” She went into the kitchen to get the utensils. Bail smiled faintly then hurried after her.

Yoda did not openly react, instead turning his attention to Rouge. “Hello, Princess Rouge you are, yes? Master Yoda I am. Speak on comm we did?” He held out a small, clawed hand.

“Yes,” Rouge’s diplomatic manners kicked I despite the resemblance to Obi-Wan’s masked face. She took his hand gently. “It’s so good to meet you. Obi-Wan has told us some lovely stories about you.”

Yoda clasped her hand in both of his. “Yes, tell me good stories about you and siblings Obi-Wan has also.” He peered up at her. “Look like your mother you do.” He glanced over at Obi-Wan, brows rising in surprise. “What doing to Obi-Wan you are?”

“We’re fixing his dry skin, Master.” Bant patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “And Ms. Rouge is smoothing his nails that were broken.”

“Hmm, yes, good for him that is.” He turned to Bes and Si. “Break nail Si did?”

“No,” Bes chuckled, trying to hide how thrilled he was.

“I opened my big mouth, Master. You know what happens when I do,” Si grumbled.

“I do.” Yoda walked over and inspected Bes’s work. “Good job you are doing.” He patted Si’s knee. “Hard to do good manicure on self is.”

“Harder to do it when the hands won’t stay still.”

“Hmm, managing well Bes is.”

“Well, good nail care is part of diplomacy level grooming,” Bes replied modestly.

Yoda gave Si a poke with his gimer stick. “Know this he does. Diplomat he used to be.”

Bes paused in his filing. “Really?”

“Heh, yes. I went through full diplomatic training. Even worked diplomatic missions when I was a young knight.” He shrugged. “I switched over to Education later on, but I started in Diplomacy.”

“Huh,” Bes examined his work, holding Si’s hand steady and comparing each nail. “I don’t ever remember you going on missions.”

“It’s not your fault,” Si replied, also inspecting his hand. “You were very busy not being born yet.” Kressa had come in behind them to set up the food and snorted. “I did some undercover work later on, but just told people it was another class or workshop I was taking. Sometimes I really did take a class with an undercover identity. The arts can be a hot bed of money laundering. But I left the diplomatic track in my late twenties.”

“Why did you make the change?” Bant asked.

Yoda stilled, a hand on Si’s calf, but Si didn’t seem upset by the question. “I lost my voice,” he said after a moment. Yoda sighed and Si patted his back. Clearly there was more to _that_ story, but Bes knew better than to pry.

“Well that _does_ make negotiations difficult,” Bes laid the finished hand on Si’s knee and held out a hand for the other one.

“Sometimes I wish I could make the other diplomats lose _their_ voices for a little while,” Obi-Wan mumbled under his mask, eliciting a few chuckles.

“Me too,” Bail agreed, helping Kressa arrange the rest of the food.

“Wished that we all have,” Yoda squeezed Si’s calf and gave Bes a grateful look, before turning to Bail. “Good to see you again it is, Prince Bail. Grown up well you have.”

Bail swallowed down a bit of panic.

“Have you met Bail before, Master?” Obi-Wan mumbled. Rouge looked surprised.

“Yes, remember me he might not. Was, hmm, ten years old about? Came with Uncle Senator he did, visited you in creche. Play with blocks together you did.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

“About three years old you were,” Yoda turned to Bail. “Spoke to your uncle I did. Remember me you probably do not.”

Bail looked into Yoda’s eyes, understanding suddenly that the master had never told Obi-Wan about his rudeness and wasn’t going to. “I remember Obi-Wan and the blocks. We built up towers and toppled them over.”

Yoda chuckled. “Some Jedi games same as everyone else, yes?”

“Yes,” Bail smiled back.

A timer dinged. Rouge had finished Obi-Wan’s nails, so he sat up and removed the squash from his eyes. Everyone laughed at his stiff, green face.

“Time to scrub it off, Knight Kenobi.” Rouge took off her sweater and followed him and Bant to the refresher. “Then we’ll get you fed, and Knight Bant can admire your gorgeous new skin.”

Kressa and Bail began serving the meal while Bant and Rouge finished the skin treatment. Kressa offered a bowl to Master Si, who politely refused, despite eating with them during the previous days. Kressa thought back and realized she had never seen him use utensils, suddenly suspecting his hands made that difficult. She leaned close, speaking quietly. “Is there something I can do or get you that would be easier for you to eat?”

Si looked up at her in surprise, apparently not used to people noticing how his disability made eating challenging. He took a breath, then slowly let it go. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you put it in a mug and add more water?”

“Make it more like a soup?” Kressa asked.

“Yes.”

“I can put in some warm broth, make it taste better than plain water.”

“Only if it’s not a bother.”

“It’s not,” she grinned. “The healers told me to make Obi-Wan’s soupy too. Just give me a minute.” She passed the portion on to Bes.

“Thank you.”

Both Bes and Yoda gave her grateful looks as she went back into the kitchen.

By the time Kressa came back with two mugs of extra soupy portions, Obi-Wan had returned with his entourage, his face looking healthier than it had since before he had left on his mission. Both men thanked her, Si carefully grasping his mug with Force-steadied hands. When everyone had been served, both Bail and Kressa joined them.

“There’s seasoned pepper mixes on the table if the food is too bland,” Kressa offered. “We wanted to make sure Obi-Wan could eat it, but also have options if others wanted some spice.”

“It’s very good, thank you,” Obi-Wan answered as the rest of the group began perusing the spices. Bes snagged a citrus-pepper blend and sprinkled some on his bowl before offering to do the same for Si. Si sniffed it, held out his mug and nodded when it was enough. Bes looked on in amusement as Si stirred his soup with the Force. Yoda and Obi-Wan shared a smile.

“Do you have roommates or is this apartment all yours?” Rouge asked.

“All mine,” Obi-Wan selected a roll and dipped it in his soup. “This tower houses mostly knights without padawans. Both Kressa and Quinlan also live on this floor.”

“It’s bigger than I thought it would be. I’ve toured the Vinland monastery and the monk’s cells were much smaller.”

“Monk cells similar size here are,” Yoda answered. “More communal spaces they have, less space specific to just one.”

“We have to get you some more prints for your walls,” Rouge looked around. “The one you have is very nice, but you definitely need more.”

Bail smiled at his sister. “Rouge is taking art history and conservation classes while she is here and is interning at Aleut’s Art Gallery. Everywhere she goes she mentally redecorates the space.”

“Is Aleut’s still in business?” Si asked. “I haven’t been there in years.”

“Oh, yes,” Bes piped up before Rouge could respond. “Nico passed away several years ago, and Muriel is retired and moved back to Alderaan, but their nephew Fredo is running the business now, with help from the younger generation.”

“Fredo? Really?” Si shook his head. “Last I saw him he was still getting ready to apply to university.”

Rouge smiled, trying to imagine her middle-aged boss as a university student. “Well, you should definitely visit again. I’m sure the exhibits have changed since then.”

“Aleut’s is one of the regular outings for residents,” Bes raised an eyebrow. “Brother Ospen has us scheduled to go next month.”

“Are you in the group of Jedi who come to the Quarterly Previews?” Rouge asked. “We’re working hard on putting together a nice show in the upper gallery.”

“Yes, that’s us. We retired Jedi sometimes go on day trips to get us out and about. Aleut’s is one of my favorites.”

“You need to get this one over to Aleut’s,” Si pointed at Obi-Wan. “Needs more exposure to good art to expand his mind and inspire his talents. Technical classes are all well and good but go out and get inspired sometimes. It’s good for you.”

“Pot, kettle meet,” Yoda gave Si a look. Si returned it before rolling his eyes.

“Do you still draw?” Bail asked just as Vos popped in to join them for lunch.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I stopped for a while but started up again more recently. It’s nothing fancy. I’m just a hobbyist.”

“Heh,” Yoda glared at him, waving his spoon. “Good art you do. If see your books Ospen did, beat him off with my stick I would have to.”

Si and Bes cracked up. Obi-Wan merely looked embarrassed.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Rouge seemed confused. Bes explained that Brother Ospen was the monk in charge of the retirement home, and he was guessing that Obi-Wan did manuscript illumination, which would make Ospen want to recruit him to the monastery. Yoda confirmed this.

“Would you even want to be a monk instead of a knight?” Rouge asked.

“I’ve considered it,” Obi-Wan answered honestly. “There were several times in my life when I wondered if I would successfully make it to knighthood, and the monks and nuns are one alternate path, though I was far too emotional in my youth for it to have worked out. If I live to retirement age or develop a disease or survive an injury that prevents me from serving as a knight, I might reconsider that path, but right now I feel that knighthood is where I’m supposed to be.”

“If you were injured, would you have to become a monk instead of a knight?” Bail asked.

“No. Simple retirement is an option if I was no longer able to serve, even with modified duties. Or I could enter the Service Corps instead, although with my very limited grasp of the Living Force, it’s probably better for the starving if I _don’t_ rejoin the Agri-Corp.”

“Hmm, lousy farmer you would be,” Yoda agreed. “But terrible monk not. Still, clear Force is. Knight you should be, knight you are.”

Vos sat down next to Kressa with a plate of food. She looked very disappointed at the thought of Brother Kenobi, and she didn’t even know the half of it.

“Do you just illustrate the manuscripts, or do you write out the text as well?” Bes asked.

“I used to do calligraphy,” Obi-Wan replied. His skin was slowly taking on a healthier color as he ate his lunch. Bant was thrilled. “I was hoping to get started with that again on my next rest period, but my body apparently had other plans.”

“You can’t do it while you’re convalescing?” Kressa asked.

“I can practice a little, but I’m not in the right frame of mind for accurate transcription and uniform lettering.”

“Give it time,” Si advised. “You’ll get there.”

“What kind of manuscripts do you make?” Bail asked.

“I only have two and one is unfinished. They are just compilations of Jedi stories, adages, and the Jedi Code. Long poems, excerpts from longer historical works, that sort of thing. If I had to leave the Jedi for a long time, what stories and wisdom would I take with me?” He shrugged. “Of course, datapads are more efficient, but nothing about modern manuscript illumination is about efficiency.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d love to see it sometime,” Bail sipped at his tea. “Assuming it’s not full of Jedi secrets.”

Quinlan hastily swallowed. “Me too.”

Obi-Wan seemed surprised at the interest. “They’re over on the shelf,” he pointed. “You’re welcome to look after you’re done eating.”

“You could stand to put a few prints up,” Si conceded. “But I think you could probably make your own art for your walls.”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan frowned. “I’d probably just see all the mistakes and it just seems immodest.”

“You’re allowed to be immodest in your own quarters.”

“Many paintings in the Temple Si has. Immodest not. Share beauty and skill with others he does.”

Si gave Yoda an exasperated look. “I haven’t painted in _years_. I certainly hope they replaced my dusty old canvasses with something fresh.”

Bes almost choked on his food.

“Master Bes said the big painting over the main salle is one of yours.” Kressa smiled. “I’ve always found it fascinating.”

Si stared at Yoda, incredulous. “They still have that old thing up?”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded. “Children love that one do. Very good teaching tool it is.”

“The painting shows different Jedi lightsaber moves and styles and how the Force moves while they are being done,” Obi-Wan explained to Rouge and Bail. He reached for a datapad on the end table. “I think I have a pic of it,” he flipped through the files before handing it to Rouge. “There it is.” He glanced at Si apologetically. “I had to teach an initiate class once, so I used it for illustrations on a quiz.”

“Heh,” Si grinned. “I used it for that too. So does Drallig. I knew eventually some little twerp would come up with a cheat sheet so they could just memorize the locations on the painting and not what the actual technique was, so I made several versions of the painting and a series of smaller ones to use as teaching materials. Gave them all to Drallig when I retired.”

“Oh Force! It does change!” Quinlan looked dumbfounded. “I thought I was just working too hard!”

Everyone got a good laugh at that.

Si sighed. “It was never supposed to be there permanently. It was just supposed to cover the hole.”

The young knights looked up suddenly. “What hole?”

“Ask Engineering. There’s some sort of large crawlspace or control room or shaft over the main salle. Power lines or plumbing or data lines or air shafts run through there. Maybe all of them. Regardless, every time they needed to get in there, they would bust through the wall and the whole salle would get shut down for safety reasons. Loud pounding, drills, dust everywhere. Then they would do their repair and brick it up again. Finally, after the third time in six years I had enough and told them to either put in a door or reroute everything, because I was not going to put up with construction dust getting into the athletic area one more time. Engineering protested that they didn’t want the area accessible. Architecture protested that a door wasn’t aesthetically pleasing. Security didn’t protest, mainly because I was the head of security’s boss, so I said put a damn lock on it. I was particularly grouchy, I had injured my ankle, and when they kept arguing that they didn’t want an obvious door there, I told them to shut up and we could just put a painting over it. Which is why I painted it and why it is there.” Si glared at Yoda. “Did they ever finish up their work and brick it over? They swore they would.”

“No,” Yoda shook his head. “Better lock for door they got.”

Si sniffed amid the laughs. “Well they should replace it with something new. It won’t be long before everyone in that painting is too old to duel. Except for you, Master.”

“Hmm, paint as well Cin cannot,” Yoda smiled. “A piece of us left after gone there will be. Keep it we will I think.”

“Maybe they’ll display the other versions together,” Obi-Wan mused. “Really confuse the younglings.”

“Well, if they ever need to hide more doors, most of my canvasses went to Archives. At least the ones I didn’t junk.”

Bes looked very sad at the idea of canvasses tossed in the trash. Obi-Wan looked somber as well.

“It’s a very vibrant painting,” Rouge looked it over, zooming in on the details. “Did you ever sell your work?”

“No,” Si shook his head. “I’ve bartered with it, and used my skill on missions, in similar ways as Obi-Wan has used his calligraphy. Some societies want a finely transcribed version of a treaty for a ceremonial signing, others want a commemorative painting, so I’ve sometimes gone to those worlds in addition to the negotiators. There may be a few of my paintings floating around the galaxy in government storage somewhere.” He sipped his soup. “Nico would sometimes take one or two if he had a gap in the show or if something sold early and he needed to fill a space. Between me, Reddy and Blerken, there was usually _something_ suitable in a pinch.” He frowned. “Nico might have sold one or two, I know he bought some from us to be nice, but we had the money sent to one of the funds for retired Jedi or the health outreach programs. We didn’t need the extra money ourselves.”

“I’ll have to check the inventory when I get back,” Rouge smiled. “See if anything sold.”

“Archives could be sitting on a fortune,” Obi-Wan put down his mug. “Good to know about if the Senate cuts funding.”

“Keep originals,” Yoda advised. “Sell prints or art books with Sophia. Sell better would than old Jedi portraits with long hair.”

Obi-Wan subtly pointed out the print on his wall to Rouge.

“Master.” It was clear this was a conversation Si and Yoda had had before. “It won’t make a profit if you are the only one to buy it.”

Yoda ignored him and turned to Rouge. “Nico always wanted for him show to do. Always no he said. Heh.” He looked back at Si. “So sure you were that sell they would not.”

“No,” Si carefully picked up his tea. “I thought people would only be interested because I was a Jedi and would then be angry when they were appraised for less than they had paid for them.”

“You didn’t think they would sell on their own merits?” Bes sounded incredulous.

Si shrugged. “I painted a lot of different things, I never settled on a style, a lot of them were just practice or fooling around or plain crap. _And_ I was a grouchy old Jedi. Hard to market, package or sell.” He cocked his head, thinking it over. “Nico’s old paintings might get a _little_ more now, but only because everyone probably assumes I’m dead.”

Yoda caught Bes’s eye. “Get him out more we must.” He winked at Rouge. “Forgive us Nico would.”

Si rolled his eyes, then finished the last of his soup and very thoroughly cleaned his hands. He caught Obi-Wan’s eye before he reached for the bookshelf behind him and picked up the manuscripts. Bes finished up his plate, hoping to look over Si’s shoulder.

He opened the smaller book first, noting the grade sheet inside. “How old were you when you made these?”

“The small one was for a class when I was sixteen,” Obi-Wan’s tone indicated no one should expect much from it. “The other I planned out and finally started when I was nineteen.”

Si looked over the text with a practiced eye, pointing out details to Bes before passing it on to Kressa and Quinlan. He spent much longer looking over the larger book. “Very fine calligraphy, Knight Kenobi. I can see why the Helsens were so pleased.”

Bes held a hand over one of the illustrations, smiling at the impressions. “You have a good eye and imagination.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

Si turned another page and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I came across your illustration of _The Warlord and the Green Dragon_.” Si was manfully fighting snickers. For his part, Obi-Wan seemed much more comfortable with this reaction.

“Yes?”

“Ahem, I see you are aware of who the historical subject is, but I take it you had not yet been gifted with the art print when you drew this?”

Obi-Wan ducked his head. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Oh, it’s a fine likeness,” Si snorted. “Just about, hmm, four hundred years off.” He turned the book around to show the group. “I spent far too many mornings as a padawan looking at this face.” The page did show a recognizable image of Master Yoda, but the wrinkles had been softened, the hairline was higher, though still cut short, and the clothes were modeled after Qui-Gon Jinn’s field attire. The expression was a snarl of outrage, which was utterly hilarious out of context, but also _very_ accurate. Si wondered when the young knight had been exposed to it. “The print on your wall is closer to the time of the poem.” As a group, they compared the two portraits, eliciting much laughter, Obi-Wan included. Yoda stared at the drawing, baffled, but not displeased.

“When make that face did I?” he asked.

Si turned the book back around. “When I was a teenager you made it daily. Mostly at me. Sometimes at the Council, but mostly at me.”

Yoda looked to Obi-Wan.

“The first time I saw it, you were getting ready to chew out some padawans,” he shrugged. “I did a sketch of the expression then. Later, um, let’s just say I had plenty of exposure to it when it was directed at my master in the Council chambers, which is why it was drawn from that specific angle.”

Yoda leaned against Obi-Wan, laughing hard. “Yes! The Master-Qui-Gon-Test-Me-Not face it _is_!” He patted Obi-Wan’s knee. “Poor boy. See that one a lot you did.”

“No doubt.” Si turned through the rest of the pages, slightly disappointed when he reached the end of the content. “May you continue to fill this book with beauty and joy.” With care, he passed it on to Kress as if it were a sleeping infant. “Master is right. Ospen would definitely want you on the manuscript team.”

Quin passed the small book over to Bail and looked over Kressa’s shoulder at the larger one, running a fingertip along the edge of the cover. A very strong Force user had left a deep impression on the outside, but it was blurred, smoothed over by a much calmer presence that he recognized as Yoda cleansing the book of turmoil. The impression of Obi-Wan remained, the whole book saturated with his presence. Clearly this was a prized possession.

Kressa was marveling over the calligraphy. “How do you get it so neat and perfectly aligned?”

Obi-Wan looked sheepish. “With a computer. There’s a program that scans your handwriting and helps map out how many lines you can get per page and column, so it’s all laid out beforehand. I also don’t write it directly in the book. The different text and illustration panels are made separately and then glued in, unlike classic manuscripts which would have been bound then written in directly, or the pages all done and then bound in order. Doing it in parts allows for different media and makes it simple to redo panels if there is a mistake. Not that I don’t scan the finished calligraphy panels to check for errors.”

Quin held a hand over some of the larger illustrations as Kressa turned the pages. Several of them gave him impressions of dreams and whispers of the Force. He knew Obi-Wan leaned toward the Unifying Force, and notwithstanding his off the mark portrait of Yoda, it would be interesting to see how historically accurate his other drawings were.

Bail looked through the smaller book, fascinated. When he was a teenager, he had read extensively about the Jedi and the Jedi Code, mystified as to how one could live their whole life within those restrictions. As he got older and had met more Jedi, he began to understand that the Code was an ideal, not a prison, and the Jedi did not raise his cousin to be the emotionless droid he had feared. The illustrations in the small book were simple, similar to the skill level Bail had seen on Obi-Wan’s first visit to the summit. He passed it on and was soon able to see the larger book. The calligraphy alone was beautiful, skilled enough to be valued and appreciated on Alderaan, and Bail wondered if the Jedi Council had Obi-Wan transcribe formal requests to his mother, or instead had a whole regiment of skilled calligraphers. The illustrations were very well done, and one caught his eye. He held up the book.

“Is this the palace gardens in Aldera?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “That saga does not actually take place on Alderaan, but it’s one of the few palace gardens I’ve spent enough time in to sketch without worrying about being assassinated or kidnapped, so I used it as a stand in. I hope you don’t mind.”

Bail shook his head.

“You never get to visit in the autumn, when the trees change colors and the mountains look painted,” Rouge sighed. “As beautiful as the gardens are, the mountains are more so.”

“Alas,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “Such is the price of relative peace and prosperity on Alderaan.”

“I wasn’t in the mountains, but I got to see the fall foliage in Vinland,” Kressa smiled at the memory. “I was taking the wine-making course there. It was beautiful, especially in the vineyards.”

“Did you get any good wine out of it?” Bail asked.

“It did not taste of vinegar, but it didn’t ferment fully, and ended up very sweet. We used it as a dessert wine.”

“I was there on retreat once, spent a week drawing and painting the foliage and living with the monks.” Si stretched in his chair. “Good for serenity, bad for dating.”

Bes chuckled into his tea. “There wasn’t a wine-making class going on?”

“Wine and beer-making courses are, hmm, prime hook up opportunities for young Jedi,” Kressa explained.

“Oh, they had one. All the nubile, young padawans were a third my age and often slightly inebriated.” Everyone laughed. “I can’t say I _didn’t_ get offers, just no _sober_ offers.”

“You were probably too intimidating to approach sober,” Bes commented quietly.

“And only attractive through a haze of alcohol,” Si laughed at himself. “Well, there was one sober offer, but it was from a monk. Very awkward. I left his vows intact.”

“For best probably was,” Yoda poured out more tea.

Obi-Wan looked amused. “ _Manuscript Illumination_ was definitely lacking in dating options. I was only sixteen of course, but half of the class was either trying to fulfill their Monastic Studies requirement just ahead of their trials, taking it while they or their masters were convalescing, or were too socially awkward to go on the ‘away’ classes. And the other half were retired knights or on rest period and looking for a hobby _and_ were making bets as to when our instructor would retire and join the monastery.”

“Fifty credits on 3 years from now I have.”

“Four years, ten credits,” Si offered.

Bes blushed. “Two and a half years, fifteen credits.”

“The rest home gets a bit dull,” Si was a touch defensive. He looked at Obi-Wan. “What do you think?”

“About Master Turvis becoming a brother? It would be rude for a student to speculate.” Yoda raised a brow, staring him down. “Didn’t bet, but less than six years, definitely.”

The elders laughed. Yoda patted his knee.

“Attuned to Force you are. Overshare Force does sometimes, yes?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Hee, yes, Turvis and Ospen platonic love affair can carry on better if join monastery he does. Happy they would be.”

“We’ll need a new supervisor,” Si predicted. “Ospen would never leave the manuscript room again.”

“Platonic love affair?” Bail asked.

“Monks and nuns vows of celibacy take, but more attachment allowed than knights. Very deep friendships they have. Knights not required chaste to be, but attachment forbidden is. Very different ways balance to find.”

Rouge smiled. “We were never sure if we were allowed to set Obi-Wan up with anyone or not.”

Obi-Wan dipped his head, ears going pink.

Yoda laughed. “Master Jinn rule that was, Jedi rule not. But hmm, hook ups on Alderaan advised are not.”

Quinlan, Kress and Bant burst out laughing. Obi-Wan hunched lower, but Yoda could hear him trying not to join in.

“Yes, the Elder Houses of Alderaan have made their contribution to the ranks of the Jedi, however unexpected,” Bail agreed.

Yoda patted Obi-Wan’s knee. “Thank you for donation we do. Take care of him we do.”

“You do,” Bail agreed.

Rouge sighed. “I just wish the Temple was closer to Alderaan.”

“I did too,” Si grinned. “I met many fine artists and dancers on Alderaan.”

“Slept with them also you did.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “Added bonus.” He chuckled. “But that was a lifetime ago.”

“Many of the companies and shows on Alderaan do come to Coruscant.” Rouge looked amused.

“Oh, I know. I would socialize with friends I made when their shows gave local performances. They would send me tickets and invite me to chic parties. Then they would try to guess my day job since I almost always left early. Had to run the morning saber clinics.”

“Did you know anyone famous?”

Si shrugged. “No one performing _now_ , of course, and I mostly stuck with the starving artist crowd, not the big stars. I took dance classes with Nell Con, Joel Brax, Hilla Roose, before they got their big breaks. I’d sometimes do workshops with Jambo and Dean when they were working out the kinks in a musical. They used to call me _the Single Threat_.”

“ _The Single Threat_?” Kressa asked.

“I could only dance,” Si shrugged. “A triple threat in musical theater can dance, sing and act. I suppose given my undercover work I _can_ act, but my croaking voice doesn’t play well on the stage. Dean would stick me wherever he was short a dancer or use me when he was auditioning for leads and needed a partner. I got a _lot_ of advice about how I should join a professional dance company instead or try to be a character actor since I had such a _distinctive voice_ and was getting older. I’d just tell them I was happy as an amateur and didn’t mention these workshops so essential to their careers were vacations for me. And if I was really worn down, I’d take a painting class instead.”

“Wait, you went to those grueling musical theater camps for _fun_?” Rouge asked incredulously. “Aren’t they usually eight to twelve hours a day of dancing, singing and running scenes, if not full rehearsals? How is that not exhausting? And don’t they make you pay for it?”

Si raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to eight to twelve hours a day of training lightsaber students, and also running Temple security?” He gave a rueful laugh. “As strenuous as dancing is, it is more expressive than strategic for the dancer than saber dueling and drilling, and while a good routine might make someone’s career, those are different stakes than training your students to defend their lives. So strenuous exercise, but with room and board included it was a nice vacation. And once Dean figured out _why_ I didn’t actually want to be cast, _ever_ , and this was just for fun, he refused to take my credits and gave me my own room.”

“He found out you were a Jedi?” Bail asked.

“Yes,” Si sighed. “Apparently he was on Coruscant and saw me in full Jedi dress on the holonews, commenting on some security breach or other at the Temple and my _distinctive voice_ gave me away.”

The whole room erupted in laughter.

“Well, it’s not as if I wore my lightsaber at dance auditions.” He sipped at his tea, clearing his throat. “But that’s enough of _my_ boring stories.”

“I didn’t think they were boring,” Bes murmured.

“Neither did I,” Rouge agreed.

Si gave the young people a skeptical look. “Well, as I said, it was a very long time ago.” He turned to Bes. “What about you, Bes? I know you had a few good adventures.”

“Me?” Bes looked surprised. “Well, I suppose I did. Most of the well-known people I met were politicians of course, since I was in the diplomatic corps. I did get to meet and work with Finis Valorum a few times before he was chancellor. A bit stuffy, but not unkind. But that was mostly bureaucratic stuff, not good story material.”

“Why do they call you the _Master of Ricochet_?” Kressa asked.

Bes blushed. “I’m not really a master of that.”

“Yes, you are.” Si’s tone indicated he was _not_ joking.

“Battlemaster he was, judge that he can.”

Quin suppressed a chuckle. Apparently, Bes was outvoted in assessing his own talents.

“Well,” Bes stared into his teacup, willing himself not to blush more. “I’m hardly the first Jedi to use the Force to redirect blaster shots or projectiles, and it’s actually a bit easier to do with deflected shots than with shots coming straight on. Firstly, because whatever they hit takes some of the momentum, and secondly because if you screw up, you’re probably not going to get hit. The hard part is you don’t get a lot of time to prepare, so you have to practice and drill with it so that it becomes second nature. The other good thing about it is if you keep it subtle, it looks like just bad luck and it doesn’t scream ‘Jedi here!’ Good for undercover work, though I never did much of it myself, and also good if you’re trying for the kind, benevolent Jedi persona as opposed to the intimidating warrior.”

“That’s a good one if you can pull it off,” Si agreed. “They soon forget you actually _know_ how to fight.”

“I’ve been told I have a very innocent face,” Bes looked at the young people, eyes wide.

Quin snorted. “Is that the look you’d give them after you redirected their own shots back at them?”

“Oh, my goodness,” Bes looked very concerned. “Are you bleeding?”

Si and Yoda chuckled.

“Oh, that looks quite bad. If you put down the blaster, I have some bacta strips I can help you with.”

“Did that work?” Bail asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Bes’s face returned to normal, which wasn’t much different from his false persona, mainly because he always genuinely wanted to help people. “You just have to time it right. Let them get the initial anger and cursing out of their systems so they can figure out my help was a better bargain than fighting me.”

“I seem to remember hearing you used this tactic with a certain Hutt who shall remain nameless.” Si sipped his tea.

“Oh, yes,” Bes confirmed. “I must say, bandaging a Hutt is not for the faint of heart.”

“Blaster shots don’t bounce off their hides?” Quin asked, serious.

“Most of the time it does, especially ricochet, and many of them count on that in a blaster fight. I may have, hmm, _added_ a little momentum as opposed to letting it bleed off, and then _oh my, that looks painful_.” He blinked his eyes, innocently. “Incidentally, if you get past the hide, a hot blaster bolt will melt the underlying fat. Too many bolts and it can actually catch on fire, should you ever need to incapacitate a Hutt.”

“I don’t want to imagine the smell.” Quin looked a bit disturbed at the idea of Master Bes intentionally setting a Hutt alight.

“You really don’t,” Bes agreed. “But it’s amazing how fast they stop wanting to kill you or keep a bounty on your head if you put out the fire,” he added cheerily. Si covered his mouth, and lowered his head, obviously laughing. Bail looked a bit disgusted, but Rouge was giggling at the idea of sweet, old Master Bes throwing a bucket of water on a flaming Hutt.

“Did you use the Force to make them feel better?” Bail asked.

“Oh, _hell_ no,” Bes sat up straighter. “I’m not _stupid_. I wasn’t going to deplete _myself_ to make my enemy feel strong enough to attack again. I used the Force to make _their_ body direct more of _their_ healing energy to the wound. They would heal better and probably hurt less, but it would sap their strength so they would be less likely to try anything dangerous.”

Kressa and Quinlan shared a look.

“Damn, Master Bes. That _is_ a sneaky trick.”

Bes grinned at the compliment. “I confess, I learned that one from Master Yoda.”

“Heh,” Yoda saluted Bes with his tea. “Adapted it for conflict well you did. Learned it I did from a Jedi monk. Used similar tactics, to keep bullies, unruly children in check did. Also use it for injured children, keep them quiet it does.”

“Do the monks raise the Jedi children?” Rouge asked.

“Today, not. A long time ago they did. Take younger children now Jedi do, creche masters a part of Service Corps are, or retired from field. Some brothers and sisters teach classes do, not just beer, wine-making. Also tutors are when help students need.”

“Did you grow up together?” Bail asked, gesturing at the vastly different age groups.

“Um, not really,” Quin nodded at Obi-Wan. “I’m a few years older than Kenobi, so we really weren’t in classes together. Kressa is a bit younger and spent her padawan years on a diplomatic space station, so she didn’t overlap with either of us. So, we only got to know each other as adults, but share many similar experiences.”

“What about you two?” Bail asked.

Bes shook his head.

Si looked amused. “No, I’m old enough to be Bes’s master, not that I was. To give you context, Bes is in the same age group as Master Jinn’s master, and I’m older than both of them.”

Obi-Wan tried not to smile as Bail and Rouge tried to work out the math in their heads.

“Grew up with none of them I did,” Yoda teased. “Old man I have been their whole lives.”

“Nonsense, Master.” Si bent down to use the Force to refill his teacup. “You were definitely still middle-aged when I was your padawan.”

Yoda stuck his tongue out at him.

“In fact, if there is anyone to blame for aging you, it is _clearly_ Yan,” Si declared. Bes tried not to spit out his tea in surprise.

Yoda narrowed his eyes and waved his gimer stick. “Age me plenty you _did_. Blame you for my bald head I _can_!”

Quinlan was laughing at the lot of them. Hard. “What can you blame, ha, your other padawans for?”

Yoda gave him an intense look. “Hmm, bald head Si gave me. Many years off my life scared away he did.” He cut his eyes to Si. “Know what you did you _do_.” He thought back. “Hmm, bad knee Yan gave me did. Run all over I did, chasing him, wore out my joints he did.”

“ _Yan_ is perhaps better known as _Count Dooku of Serrano_ ,” Obi-Wan explained. Bail and Rouge nodded, having dealt with him in diplomatic circles.

“Never satisfied was he. Hmm, Cin, half-trained Cin was before take him as padawan I did. Less time to age me there was.”

“And you missed the worst of the teenage years,”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Morning stiffness gave me he did. Good knight he was, good master, but _ugh_ , stay out late he would many nights, kept awake I was, follow curfew he did not.”

“I could argue the knee was more serious than your hair,” Si’s expression was fond, despite the teasing.

“Fair it is not. Thick hair you still have.”

Kressa laughed, the sound bright and bubbly. “What did Obi-Wan do to you?”

“Hey!” Obi-Wan looked indignant. “I only lived with him for three months.”

“Six months,” Yoda corrected.

“Six months?” Quin asked.

“Six months,” Obi-Wan conceded. “He’s counting the time I lived with him when I was sixteen and Master Jinn was getting medical treatment off-world.”

“Six months,” Yoda pointed his gimer stick at Obi-Wan. “Made me _fat_ he did.”

“I did?” Obi-Wan seemed stunned.

“Yes. Fat. Gained weight when live with you I did. Both times. When young you were, make tea always you did. Fetch dinner for me you did. Keep pantry stocked you did. Homesick you were. Missed master you did. Growing boy you were, but very stressed. Try to get you to eat I did. Almost chubby I got.”

Si laughed quietly. Obi-Wan looked apologetic.

“Hmm, when young man you were, even _worse_. Cook you did. Come home I would, dinner made would be. Wake up in morning, make breakfast you would when still trying to wake up I was. Heh, servant I needed not, but make sure fed I was you did.” Yoda leaned back on the couch and patted Obi-Wan’s knee. “Good boy you were. Wanted to take care of me you did. Now good knight you are. Worth it, it was, even if love handles I get.”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to apologize.

“Oh, please, Master. You don’t have love handles,” Si scoffed.

“Fatter I am.” He pointed at Obi-Wan with his thumb. “All his fault.”

Si leaned over to pick up his tea, staring Yoda down. “I’ve seen you naked. No, you don’t.”

Bes coughed on his tea, slightly scandalized.

“What did Healer Les say about this supposed weight gain?” Si asked.

Yoda sighed. “Healthy weight was. Too thin I was getting.”

Si sighed deeply, a long-suffering look on his face. “Love handles.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “You made him eat and sleep at regular times and forced him to delegate work. He ended up a healthier weight, with better skin and you replaced all the robes he had since Cin was his padawan. You did a good job.” He turned to Bail and Rouge. “You’ve probably seen Cin on the holonews; he is the current Battlemaster.”

Bail chuckled. He was pretty sure who Master Si was referring to, and that man was _not_ young.

Yoda patted Obi-Wan’s hand. “Perfect padawan you were. Fed me well, cleaned home. Knighted in three months.”

“I just wanted to not make my problems into your problems, Master.” Obi-Wan was very quiet.

“Problem you never were.” Yoda looked over at Quinlan and Kressa. “Needs to get out more he still does.”

“Master!” Obi-Wan protested.

“Give up, young man,” Si advised. “I’m more than one hundred years old and he _still_ interferes with my social life or lack thereof.”

Bail and Rouge looked stunned. Bes slumped a little in his seat.

“Heh,” Yoda picked up his teacup. “Always my padawan you will be. See you happy I want.” He glanced at Bes. “Very social in his youth he was. Forget his charms hidden under grouchy surface he has.”

Si sipped his tea. “I’m sure all of my charms dried up and fell off long ago, Master.” He put down his cup and crossed his shaking hands under his sleeves.

“Hmm, when eight hundred years old you are, lose charm you might. Now, just good dusting they need.” Yoda shot his eyes to Bes, who had ducked his head into his own cup.

Quin raised an eyebrow.

“Last I recall you _are_ eight hundred years old and you haven’t lost _yours_ ,” Si gazed steadily at his former master. “I don’t think you can pin that on chronological age.”

Yoda stared back as if trying to read between the lines. Finally, he shook his head, then turned to Bes. “Get out more he needs also.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Team up with Ospen you should. Get him out into sun do.”

Si grew still. “I’m sure Master Bes is getting tired of hanging out with grouchy old me.”

Quinlan coughed on a cracker.

“No, I’m not.” Bes seemed stunned that Si would consider himself boring. “I was just waiting to get home to ask you more about the dance camps.”

“Oh,” Si tried to hide his surprise with little success. “I probably have some pictures somewhere.”

Obi-Wan and Yoda shared another knowing look. Quin noticed, suddenly suspicious.

“Holopics or drawings?” Bes asked, looking very interested.

“Both?” Si shrugged. “Many of the dancers posed for me during downtime.”

Yoda unsuccessfully hid a smirk.

“I’d love to see them sometime.”

“Sure,” Si still seemed very stunned that _anyone_ , much less Bes, would want to see his old memories. Rouge made a mental note to ask Fredo about him.

Quinlan suddenly saw a rare opportunity and jumped at it. “Obi-Wan, do you have any drawings you’d be willing to show us?”

“Um,” he didn’t quite blush, but this was more due to his recent illness than confidence in his work. “My scribbles are in the folder,” he pointed to his workbench. “I should warn you, I tend to draw people I know, so I apologize in advance.”

“He has very nice scribbles,” Si nodded at the folder. “You should take a look while he lets you.”

Obi-Wan settled deeper into the couch as Quinlan got up to retrieve the folder. “I really didn’t think anyone would be interested.”

Quinlan was surprised at how thick the folder was. “You’ve only been drawing since your last rest period?”

“It was a long break and I kind of binged while I was home. I was dreadfully out of practice,” he shrugged. “But I also brought some supplies with me on this last run. That’s what is on top. Apparently the Dailfo natives had no use for my scribblings because they were all over the cockpit when I got my ship back.”

That certainly explained the boot print on the back of a sketch of an alien tree. Quin flipped through the pages slowly. Kressa looked over his shoulder and passed the pages over to Bail and Rouge when they were done. There was a large variety of subjects: flora and fauna of many species, studies of architectural details or design features in the Temple, sketches of people without clear faces that aimed to catch the action or movement. None were in color, just pencil, ink or charcoal, the focus on getting back atrophied skills more than in anything more ambitious. Unsurprisingly there were quite a few sketches of humanoid forms doing saber work. As simple sketches, they were tasty little psychometric morsels, some giving a vague impression, others providing a clear, full-color image of whatever Obi-Wan had been trying to capture. Occasionally there was an emotion attached, but for all the close attention to physical form, there did not seem to be any sexual appreciation involved, which in Quin’s first-hand experience, was slightly unusual. Artists were often passionate about their work and spent a long time scrutinizing the physical form, even for subjects they were not attracted to. These works felt meditative, calm. Peaceful, even if the form captured was exciting or intense. He wondered if they were done from memory as opposed to from a live subject. He was about to pass another page when Kressa inhaled sharply and looked closer.

“What?” he asked.

“I think that’s you,” she whispered.

He leaned in, taking in the details. It was definitely a humanoid male, the features indistinct, engaging an unseen adversary in a classic Djem So attack, but viewed from behind. The subject in the drawing _did_ have a rather long, thick mane of hair, and it was a move he did, usually against Kressa since she had started learning Niman. The lines of the subject’s body were elegant, filling the page, and as he brushed his fingertips along the sheet, he felt respect, admiration of the subject’s skill, a deep study of both the move itself and the frozen instant the drawing had captured. It was all very academic. He had hoped Kenobi had _some_ attraction to him (if this in fact was him), but he supposed he could live with professional respect, particularly from the brilliant swordsman he could sense Obi-Wan was growing into. He held up the drawing to Obi-Wan.

“Is this me?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan seemed sheepish. “Against Kressa. You use that move a lot. That’s the angle I see it from when I’m waiting my turn.”

Si looked up in surprise. “Go see Drallig about your footwork. If that’s how you’re doing it, you’re risking a sprained ankle on uneven ground.”

“He is?” asked Bes, who pulled out his reading glasses and gestured for Quin to pass it down.

“It’s very likely I just drew it wrong,” Obi-Wan offered.

“I doubt it, it’s consistent with the other body lines.” Si held the drawing up, tracing the lines of the legs and feet with a finger. “It’s a very common error that beginners miss because it doesn’t matter on a flat surface but makes it very easy to turn an ankle if the ground isn’t smooth. You see it in several similar attack stances, it’s very subtle, but with the additional power behind Djem So stances, injury is more likely.”

“Oh, yes,” Bes was staring at where Si had been pointing. “The angle of the foot placement is a little off.” He looked up at Quin. “There’s a Niman stance that is similar. Definitely go see Drallig.”

“Bring a copy of the drawing with you and tell him I said the foot placement is off. He’ll know what it means.”

“Um, if you really think so.”

“Too many Jedi focus on saber position and don’t pay enough attention to the feet. Drill without your saber once in a while. Focus on the feet and legs alone. Helps you get a more refined form that becomes second nature instead of just paying scant attention to it. Get Drallig to show you some clips.” He frowned a moment as he passed the sketch back. “He probably has some new ones, but a good demonstration would be Master Okton doing kata 5d.7 or Bes doing 6.12.”

Bes looked rather surprised that he was featured in Si’s clip library.

Yoda glanced at the sketch as it went by. “Yes, fix that you should.”

Obi-Wan looked as if he wanted to melt into the couch when Bail suddenly held up another drawing of a faceless woman in a crouched position, her gathered skirts held out with one hand, her other arm held over her head, clutching a flower stem with ribbons flowing from it.

“This looks familiar.”

“Ah!” Rouge’s eyes lit up. “That’s a pose in the ladies’ dance we did the last night of the summit.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “It’s not meant to be any one of you specifically. I saw the four of you during rehearsals and that pose was just interesting and stuck with me.”

“You’ve caught it very well,” Rouge confirmed.

“That one will build up your legs,” Si commented.

“Oh, Force, _I know_. My thighs _burned_ practicing that one.” Kressa squirmed. “Helped me with sparring lunges later.”

“It really does,” Si agreed. “Probably helped your balance too.”

“It _did_.”

Si caught Rouge’s eye. “Now you see why I took dance workshops for fun. I certainly enjoyed the dance, the energy, the people but the physical skills translated well.”

“Are there any clips of you dancing as opposed to sparring?” Quin asked.

Si shrugged. “Hell if I know. I doubt if any from the camps would be archived anywhere. You have to remember, I wasn’t actually _cast_ in anything, but it’s possible there might be old audition clips for other dancers that I might appear in. Also, the Modern Dance Club here in the Temple used to do a semi-annual recital. I sometimes used to dance with them, but you’d have to dig through the Archives for it.”

“Definitely in Archives they are,” Yoda agreed. “Do solo dances sometimes he would, or what is term? Ballet with partner?”

“ _Pas de deux_ ,” Si replied.

“That,” Yoda confirmed. “Very nice dances they were. Sparring very different is.”

“You dance ballet?” Rouge asked.

“No,” Si scoffed. “I stretch ballet. I _used_ to dance ballet as an amateur. There’s a school of saber work that requires learning basic dance as a foundation to build fighting skills on. Learn the balance, the ability to follow form,” he leaned toward Quinlan. “The _complicated footwork_ through dance to learn how to move the body, _then_ learn the ways to fight. There are some techniques from dance that are used with the youngest initiates, and this one,” he pointed at Obi-Wan. “Has definitely been taught similar techniques when he was learning his gymnastics. You can see it in his Ataru aerials.” He turned back to Rouge. “I still do stretch and barre routines a few days a week to keep flexible and maintain core strength. My hands don’t let me do saberwork anymore, so I have to do _something_ to stay in shape.”

“When do you do all that?” Bes asked.

“On the days I’m not on the treadmill. Before I do weight training. There’s a barre in the weight room.”

“You’re very, um, active for your age,” Bail commented.

“Heh,” Yoda refilled his tea. “Broken hip, in mortal fear of he is. Break neck he will before hip, sticking long leg up on barre like he does.”

“I use a spotter,” Si sighed. “Brother Artin is far too accommodating.”

“He’s good at spotting,” Obi-Wan nodded. Yoda snorted.

“I think I know this girl,” Quinlan grinned, holding up a drawing of Kressa’s laughing face. It was a close up of her head and shoulders, her eyes dancing in mirth.

“That’s pretty good,” Kressa looked very surprised. “When did you do that?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I was just sitting at home. It was when we were in the saber workshop together.”

“You did this from memory?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s tone indicated he didn’t think it was unusual. “Not all of us have whole dance companies waiting around to pose.”

Si barked out a laugh.

“I don’t see it,” Bant grimaced, the Mon Calamari equivalent of a frown.

“Bant can never see the resemblance. Mon Calamari pick up on different features than humans do,” Obi-Wan explained, smiling. “I once tried to do a portrait of her, and she told me it _sort of_ looked like Master Guar.”

“Nautolans are even worse,” Si scoffed. “Master Xeno once commissioned a portrait. Never again.” He shook his head as he sipped his tea. “Archives thought it was very accurate, but every time another Nautolan saw it, they burst out laughing. I finally just told Archives to get a native artist, I was not _fixing_ it again.”

Bant was giggling, well aware of the neural discrepancy, but unable to really describe where they were going wrong.

“Ooh, who could this be?” Kressa held up a picture that was clearly Master Yoda standing across from a crouching student, both staring down at something intently.

“That one I did from life, though they might not have realized they were posing.”

“In garden this was?” Yoda asked and Obi-Wan nodded. “Had my suspicions I did.” He looked back at the group. “Make frown face when draw he does.”

“You don’t do self-portraits?” Si asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Other people are more interesting.”

Si chuckled knowingly.

The rest of the afternoon flowed by, with laughter and good conversation. Rouge and Bail were quite surprised to find themselves in the folder as well. Rouge asked if she could take a picture of her portrait.

“You can have it, if you want.” Obi-Wan seemed surprised she was even interested. “It’s just a sketch.”

“Thank you!” She got up and kissed him on the cheek. “I know just where I’ll put it.”

“Still decorating the walls,” Bail teased. He looked up at Obi-Wan. “No pictures of Celly or Tia?”

“Um, no.” Obi-Wan looked slightly embarrassed. “As innocent as my scribbles are, I didn’t want to explain why I had drawings of underage Alderaani princesses in my sketch collection. It just seemed like a bad idea.”

Bail caught Quinlan’s eye and they both started laughing.

“Scandal at the Jedi Temple!” Quinlan imitated the tone used by the anchor on the evening holonews. “Underage princesses at center of art controversy!”

Bant was blushing and shaking her shoulders. Kressa was wiping away tears.

“It would be different if it was a posed sketch, but saying I drew them from memory just, . . . I couldn’t think of a way to make that not sound creepy if I had to explain it to someone outside your family.”

“Well, Celly is almost an adult,” Rouge giggled. “Be sure to draw her with nice hair.”

“Of course.”

“Ooh, who is this?” Bail held up a drawing of another Jedi, lit saber in hand, the pose captured in mid-air as he came down from a leap, all flowing hair and sash, body lines aggressive and elegant. Neither Quinlan nor Kressa had been able to identify anyone specific as again the facial features were barely drawn in at all, the focus all on movement and position.

Yoda, Si and Bes barely gave it a glance. “Drallig,” they said in unison. Obi-Wan nodded to confirm.

“Damn,” Kressa looked impressed. “I’ve never seen him do _that_.”

“That’s what he tends to look like shortly before I find myself disarmed on the mats with the wind knocked out of me.”

Quinlan leaned into Kressa and whispered conspiratorially. “He isn’t that hard on us.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “Work harder.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “Get Gi-Ho to show you kata 3.28.”

Bes giggled. So did Yoda.

“What? _Someone_ has to keep Drallig on his toes. It’s certainly not going to be _me_.”

“He’s the one on the holonews, yes?” Bail asked.

“Yes, he’s the current Battlemaster, and arguably one of the finest swordsmen among the Jedi,” Si answered.

Rouge looked skeptical. “I thought Master Jinn was the best.”

Everyone looked at Obi-Wan (though half were more concerned about the mention of his former master), but he just held up his hands in denial. “Master Jinn is very talented, but I didn’t make that claim.”

“Jinn was arguably the finest Ataru duelist in the Order, but he’s certainly not the best swordsman. He specializes in Form IV, and taught Kenobi the same, but from what I recall has limited skills in the other forms. Drallig is much more well-rounded.”

“Who is the best?” Rouge asked. All eyes turned to Si, including Yoda.

Si looked amused. “ _I_ certainly don’t know; I haven’t been in the salle in more than a decade. From my out of date knowledge base, Drallig is one of the best overall, but Koon, Windu and Kerantz are also top swordsman and duelists. Yan Dooku is also an excellent duelist, but like Jinn, only a good teacher one on one and the student must be very independent. They are both very skilled at honing excellence, and terrible at troubleshooting.” He glanced at Obi-Wan. “You probably needed to see other masters in skills outside Ataru, and to truly master those aerials that Jinn is too tall for.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “Master Nori was very helpful.”

“Yes, Nori was a top aerialist and probably is still excellent, though aerials are a young Jedi’s game. Gi-Ho is one of the best kata masters. Knows them all, backwards, forwards, all variations. Windu is a master of Vapad, of course he invented it. Dooku is a master of Makashi. Rettel of Shien. Kurvis of Djem So. Poku of Niman. Brettel of Soresu. But they are all getting older. I don’t know who the up and comers are.”

“But if you had to pick just one, who is the best of the best?” Rouge pressed.

“Hmm,” Si pretended to think it over. “I’d have to say that if push came to shove, I’d never want to find myself at odds with the Green Dragon.” He leaned over and made a show of cautiously peeking at the art print on the friend wall. “He is gracious on the mats, but a demon in the field.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Master Yoda is _very_ polite when he pounds your face into the practice mats.”

Yoda patted his knee amid the giggles. “Hope you still have mud mask left I do. Pound your face I will later.”

“I know, Master.”

“Wait until better you are I will. Make sure ready to return to field I will.”

“I look forward to witnessing your superior skill, Master.”

Si and Bes chuckled knowingly.

“Hmm,” Yoda’s look was both fond and amused. “Test your Soresu I will. Must be sure that defend yourself you can.”

“I really haven’t gotten very far, Master Yoda.”

“Motivate you I will.” He looked the young man over. “Next week sometime. Put back on more weight you must.”

“Yes, Master.”

The afternoon slowly wound down and drew to a close. Eller arrived to escort Bail and Rouge back to their aircar, taking Master Yoda with her for the afternoon session. Quin and Kressa left for a meeting with their Field Intelligence Coordinator to brief about upcoming missions. Sister Vella arrived along with a delivery droid from Stores to relieve Si and Bes and quite vehemently (although silently) insisted on putting away the groceries and cleaning up, because Obi-Wan was still on vigil until the next morning. At loose ends, the young knight settled down in the afternoon sun streaming in through the windows with his sketch pad, at least until the sister would be willing to join him.

Si and Bes stopped by the Security Office at Bes’s gentle reminder that Si had to update his ID pic. The clerk noted the instruction on his file to assist him with his forms and brought them both to a side office to complete them privately. Several people stopped by to say hello to Si while they waited for the card to be printed and coded, and just as the clerk was bringing the new card personally (having been informed by now who this venerable Jedi that all the old guard knew was) Cin came out from behind the desk.  
  
“Si! It’s been too long Big Brother.”

Si stood to accept the offered hug, towering over Drallig to the amusement of the clerk. He then introduced Bes, unsure how well they knew each other, who accepted Cin’s handshake with his usual charm.

“It’s good to see you again, Master Bes. You’re looking well. If the two of you don’t mind, may I speak with Master Si privately?” He looked back and forth between the two of them. “It should only take about ten minutes.”

Si took a deep breath, still anxious about walking through the Main Temple alone. “You don’t have to wait for me if you want to get back, Bes.”

The nervousness had not been lost on the Kiffar. “Oh, I can wait. I never come over this way anymore and there is art on the walls. Come find me in the hall when you’re done, and we can go back together.”

Cin nodded his thanks and led Si back behind the reception desk to his office. Bes steered his scooter out into the hall and left the Security Suite to make his way to the adjacent training complex. There were some unfamiliar art pieces on the walls. Si had greatly expanded the display space when he had been the battlemaster and the practice had apparently continued after his tenure. One hall had a collection of drawings of Jedi in a variety of saber poses rendered in charcoal and colored chalk. He turned a corner and the next hallway had a series of still pics from the previous year’s saber tournaments. He was able to spot a nice shot of Quinlan engaging another knight, and Windu and Drallig in a demonstration duel in the Masters’ Showcase. He turned down another hall and came across the immense plaque showing the names of the top three competitors for each rank for the past century. He looked for familiar names. Quinlan appeared once in the senior padawan division. Knight Kenobi appeared twice, including at the Junior Knight division; Si was right, the young man was an upcoming star. Going further back he saw Drallig’s name, Gi-Ho, Nori, Windu, Dooku, all of the names Si had mentioned. Master Laelen was even further back in time, and if went back far enough Si’s name started to appear: Senior Knight, Junior Knight, Senior Padawan, Junior Padawan. He tried to imagine Si as a padawan or a young knight.

Finally, he turned down the last hall to the Battlemaster’s office. Portraits of the last six battlemasters hung on the wall, four of them by Si. Bes stopped in front of the self-portrait, showing Si in his mid-forties, just after he had taken the position, the youngest battlemaster in decades, having only reached the rank of Jedi Master a few years before that. He was still vibrant, no gray in his hair, only the faintest lines on his face, his well-honed physique modestly dressed in traditional Jedi tunics and robes, his hands still steady as a rock. Bes was a bit embarrassed that he had never gotten over his adolescent crush, but he could argue his teenage self did have good taste.

After a few moments, Cin and Si came out of the office, the former looking hopeful, the latter a bit grim.

“I have to look into how feasible it would be,” Si was not quite apologetic and slightly overwhelmed.

“I understand if you can’t,” Cin clapped a hand on Si’s shoulder. “We’re doing the best we can, but this is a game changer.”

“I understand. All hands on deck.” Si sighed deeply. “I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” Cin smiled at Bes. “And thank you. I’ll let both of you get on with your day.”

“It was very good to see you, Cin,” Si patted his arm gently with a shaking hand. “With Dooku and Laelen gone, I know you don’t have many options.”

“You’ll always be my first choice, Si.” With another smile, Cin stepped across the hall to look in on Gi-Ho’s class.

Si watched him go, then exhaled slowly through his nose. He looked up at the painting of his much younger self, then down at his own shaking hands.

“Everything alright?” Bes asked gently.

Si glanced back up at his self-portrait. “That’s a terrible hairstyle. What was I thinking?”

Bes followed his gaze, knowing _something_ was bothering him, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. The man in the painting had thick, dark hair, swept back in a traditional style, long enough to tie back, but not so long as to be fussy. “When I was that age, I was still trying to find a style that made me look old enough to be trusted, but not so old as to be feeble.”

He looked back at Si. These days Si had Brother Folli buzz his hair short a few times a year and just combed in back when it got long enough to lie flat. Still very utilitarian, but for someone as expressive as Si, both styles seemed curious choices.

Si adjusted his robe and moved his staff to the walking position. “I think it’s too late for the latter, Bes. Let’s go home.” They began heading out of the training complex.

Bes tried to make small talk. “You can also use you new ID on Coruscant’s Public Transit if you want to leave the Temple.” He tried to catch a glimpse of Si’s face as they walked back toward the lifts to the Visitor’s Hall. Bes was fairly sure he was listening, if not speaking. “Of course, there is plenty to do in the Temple. Classes, lectures, seminars, watching the younglings and the knights spar. Musical performances, tea salons, art exhibits. Sometimes it’s just nice to go eat lunch in the cafeteria and feel the energy from all the young people.”

They entered a lift and the hubbub of the hall was suddenly muffled. Si looked down at himself again.

“I need to get my good clothes washed and pressed again, so Ospen can find them when I die.”

Bes was silent for a long moment. “Are you planning to die soon?”

“No,” Si was looking at his blurry reflection in the shiny metal doors of the lift. Bes had thought he had looked rather handsome dressed nicely, but now it concerned him.

“I just assumed I’d be dead by now. Three good sets seemed enough to cover full funerals, including my own. I didn’t expect to have to go back into the Main Temple that many times, especially in one week.” He had that overwhelmed look again. Si had moved into the home a decade ago and had planned to stay until his death. But the Force still hadn’t taken him, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to casually rejoin the actively living.

They left the lift and began walking across the marble floor toward the lifts that would bring them home.

“Well,” Bes tried to find the right words to say as the lift doors closed again, leaving them alone together. He knew Si sometimes got depressed; it was hard for people as goal-oriented as Jedi to just stop moving forward when their brains or bodies gave out on them. Still, it was probably a good sign that Si actually cared what he looked like, even at his age. “Maybe you could just, mmm, get some more nice clothes so you can go out _and_ be prepared?”

They got out of the lift and headed toward the lobby. Si waited patiently while Bes signed them back in, then helped him up from his scooter before silently following him back toward the residential dorms. Bes stopped in the hall near the intersection, not sure where Si wanted to go, but keenly aware he needed to talk.

“Drallig wants my help with a seminar. Preparing the Jedi for these new Sith.” He leaned back against the wall with a sigh, leaning his staff into an empty corner so it would not fall down.

“That’s not a rumor then,” Bes felt a shiver of dread slip up his spine. “Master Jinn _did_ kill a Sith.”

“ _That_ is a rumor. Jinn was run through by a Dark Force user and nearly died. The duckling actually killed him.”

“Oh.” It was little wonder Yoda had his eye on this one and was seeking Si’s help.

“I’m old, Bes. This should be Laelen’s job. Or Yan’s. Not mine.” He looked at his well-manicured hands again. They were shaking harder than they normally did, anxiety making the condition worse. “I thought I would be dead by now,” he said again. “Before I was this . . . helpless.”

Bes leaned back against the wall next to him, understanding the feeling but also knowing how detrimental it was to give into it. “It’s a seminar, not a workshop. Yes, you can’t get out on the floor anymore, or,” he fought down a chuckle. “Or take out a guard, but you’re not like Wallace, Si. Your brain still works. You have knowledge, wisdom, strategy.”

Si slowly turned his head to face him, lips pressed together tightly. “I can still take out a guard, Bes.” He seemed a bit offended. “What I can’t do is take care of myself. I can’t shave my own face. I can’t sign my own name. I can’t even feed myself half the damned time. I expected I would be dead before I was this damn incapacitated. My father was. My siblings were. But I’m still here, having to use the damn Force to sip a kriffing cup of tea. And now there are Sith. And Cin wants my help and I’m too damn old.”

Bes took a deep breath. “Your brain still works, Si. If the Force didn’t take you, maybe this is why.”

Si didn’t argue, just sighed and looked up toward the ceiling. Bes wondered if he had already thought of that and found the idea terrifying rather than reassuring.

Bes tried again. “Did you see the looks on those young knight’s faces when you diagnosed a misstep from a sketch, or could recommend specific katas by number off the top of your head? Or when you and Yoda were playing a _casual_ game of Breggle and they realized they’re supposed to be able to manipulate a dozen objects at once and not just two?”

“There are other Jedi who can do that,” Si’s voice was quiet.

“There are,” Bes conceded. “But there is only so much time and energy and people to go around. And you’re right, this should be Laelen’s job or Yan Dooku’s job to help Cin, but he doesn’t have them, he has you and Yoda, and Master Yoda is already spread thin.”

“This is bad, Bes.” Si’s deep voice was very quiet, but he wasn’t whispering. “Whether they are Sith or something else, they are coming for us and we aren’t prepared.”

Bes didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t want to go back out there.” Si cut his eyes in the direction of the reception room. “I’m old, I can’t take care of myself . . . I don’t want to go back there and make an old fool of myself.”

“Si.” Force, Bes understood, he really did. “You _didn’t_ make a fool of yourself. You went to the Main Temple three days in a row to help out your master, you sat vigil, you saw old friends, made new ones and quite honestly impressed a _hell_ of a lot of people, just by being yourself. And that was with the things you still can do, not your previous accomplishments.”

Si crossed his arms under his sleeves, not wanting to look at them anymore, and sighed. “I _did_ help Master. But I took up all of _your_ time to do it, I needed people to work around my limitations, and I can’t even reciprocate for you or any of the other people who helped me.”

Bes fought the urge to sound sympathetic. He remembered these feelings when he had first been injured and was confined to a hover chair while the healers were still trying to save one of his legs, or when he had despaired of ever learning to walk on prosthetics, or resigning himself to always carrying his comm in case he fell down again and could not get enough leverage to get back up.

“Okay, Si, let’s do the math then,” he forced himself to scowl and tried to sound annoyed. It was so atypical for him that Si actually flinched. “What did you actually do and what did you actually need? You went and sat vigil for three days so Master Yoda could rest _and_ informed Ospen so he could give Yoda enough volunteers that Kenobi could stay home. You helped Master Tahl navigate the space. You talked down a knight panicking about her sick friend. You blew that young engineer’s mind in a way he would never get from a textbook, inspired Kressa to try something new, may have saved Quinlan from losing a fight when he _really_ might need it now that there are kriffing Sith in the game, you mentored Knight Kenobi who _clearly_ needs it, and you were there when your master needed you.”

Si looked at the floor as if he were being dressed down.

“And what did you need? You needed me to show you how to drive a scooter, and show you how to get to the tower, Ospen to fill out a form, other people to make your tea, and Kressa to put a little broth in your food so you could eat it by yourself.”

“I took up all of your time, Bes. For three days.” He sounded guilty.

Bes took a page from Yoda’s playbook and smacked Si on the arm with the back of his hand. The older man flinched again in surprise and Bes held in a wince when he discovered Si’s arm was more muscular than he had been expecting. “Did it ever occur to you that I actually _enjoyed_ the last three days, Si? That maybe I thought we were both old enough to be _friends_ and that talking about art, and dance, and saber technique, and old missions was actually _fun_? That Yoda is my friend too, and I wanted to help him out? That instead of seeing Quinlan for an hour or two, I got to see him _and_ meet his friends? Quit wallowing. I didn’t go for three days just to pour your tea.”

Si swallowed, throat clicking. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply that I expected you to at my beck and call, or that you don’t have a life of your own.”

Bes said nothing, already well aware of this.

“I meant I’m too dependent on other people to do things.”

“We’re old, Si. We’re old and disabled or injured or sick or worn out and just need help. We’re not useless or helpless or not worth the effort. We still have value and we still have a role to play, even if we don’t go out in the field anymore.”

“Argh,” Si grumbled, lowering his head. “Forget the field, I’m more afraid of going out into the Temple than I am of a Sith. How kriffed up is that?”

“It’s okay to be afraid, Si.” Bes stared at the opposite wall. “I still get afraid of falling down. I’m practically glued to my scooter when I leave the Temple, even if it takes me four times as long to get anywhere, or if I really could walk that far.”

“It’s been three days and I’m still afraid. It didn’t matter before. Master needed help. If I had to crawl up the steps of the Knights Tower on my hands and knees, I would have because he needed help.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The stakes are much higher now. It’s not sitting on a couch while a knight with Native’s Revenge sleeps it off. It’s training and guiding and influencing people who are taking that new knowledge into the field where it could help defend them or get them killed. I left that responsibility a long time ago.”

“I think that’s still Cin’s job,” Bes ventured. “But I understand how that would be daunting. We’re both old enough to know what happens when things go wrong or when we’ve had to face things they can’t train you for.”

“And I’m afraid of looking like a gibbering idiot out there. Dropping things. Spilling things. Kriff, when it really gets bad, I need help in the fresher. I know it’s prideful of me, but I don’t want to be a burden, any more than I already am.” Si still looked overwhelmed. “I never planned for if I’d still be alive.”

Bes pondered this. For a human, Si was very active for his age and certainly didn’t look 105 when he cleaned himself up. And yes, 105 was on the far end of life expectancy for most humans, but not terribly exceptional for _retired_ Jedi who managed not to die in the field. Hell, Denna was 117, and 120 was not uncommon, though most Jedi of that age and older lived on the floor below, with more attentive care by geriatric and palliative healers, rather than clergy.

“Does your condition shorten your life expectancy?” Bes had never asked what exactly caused Si’s hands to shake, but there had been scuttlebutt over the years that it was genetic, not due to an injury, infection or environmental insult. His mention of biological family seemed to support this.

Si sighed. “Physiologically, no. Logistically . . .” he shrugged. “It becomes too difficult to care for yourself. You get injured trying to manage, or you become destitute because you can’t work anymore. Medications become less effective, it becomes more and more frequent until eventually it’s constant, and then it only varies in severity. I was fortunate in that I didn’t develop symptoms until my mid-fifties, and even then, it took a long time to get a diagnosis because it progressed more slowly than normal. Most patients start to get their first tremors in their thirties. Almost everyone afflicted in my family was dead before they were seventy.”

With that as a baseline, Bes could see why Si would not expect to become a centenarian, even though at seventy he was still pounding young knights into the mats in the salle. “They couldn’t get good healthcare?” Not every planet in the Republic took as good care of their elderly and infirm as the Jedi did.

“They drank themselves to death before they became completely incapacitated.” Si closed his eyes. “I had hoped the Force would be merciful and give me a nice bout of pneumonia before . . . now.”

Si always refused wine during the weekly service and group meditation, but many of the residents did as if could interfere with medications, so it hadn’t seemed odd.

“I don’t want to die,” Si continued, quietly. “I’m not going to try to hurt myself or anything like that. I wouldn’t do that to Master. It’s hard enough when a padawan dies of natural causes.”

Bes’s face grew somber, remembering how withdrawn Si had been when his eldest padawan had passed from age-related causes several years ago.

“But I don’t know if I can do this. If I can go back out there and . . . and he brave like you do, Bes.”

Bes felt his eyebrows climb to his hairline. “Like _I_ do?”

“Yes. You go out there, like it was nothing. Like the Temple is the dining room, like going to Aleut’s is like walking on the terrace.” Si looked at the opposite wall as if he could see through it to the rest of the Temple, but this time it was with longing rather than fear. “I didn’t mind staying in my room, but I didn’t think I’d be there this long.”

Bes remembered Si speeding across the pavilion on his scooter, a glint of mischievous delight in his eye. Clearly, he could overcome his fears when properly motivated, but this greater challenge was too much on his own.

“Coruscant wasn’t built in a day, Si. And to be honest, I still get scared, and I don’t leave the Temple alone, even though I’m allowed to. It’s just easier with someone else in case something goes wrong. And when I first moved here, I probably would have shut myself in my room forever if Quinlan and his master didn’t visit and take me out for lunch, to see people and do things.”

Si’s closest friend outside the home was Yoda, but the venerable grandmaster barely left the Temple himself anymore. Bes knew Si still had at least one living padawan and several half-padawans he had ushered through the final stages of apprenticeship after their masters had died or become disabled, but they rarely visited, all of them getting older themselves.

“I’m sorry I was rude and acting like an ass,” Si’s voice was quiet and raspy, but humble. “I really _am_ grateful for all of your help, Bes. I’m _glad_ you had other reasons to stay.”

“You weren’t acting like an ass, Si,” Bes explained. “You just need to value yourself more.” Bes had realized Si accepted his help readily if it benefited Yoda as well but had been quick to offer Bes an out if it was just for himself, even if he clearly wanted the help. “I thought we made a pretty good team between my hands and your legs.” He shrugged. “It’s okay to ask for help so you can do the things you want to do. And we do have group outtings like the one to Aleut’s, so we don’t have to do everything alone. Brother Ospen gets an airbus big enough for the scooters and we all go together, and we usually use the buddy system because you’re not the only one who rarely leaves the Temple or who worries about getting lost or falling down or having an issue. You can come with us, Si.” He paused. “It’s what friends do.”

“I do consider you a friend, Bes. I just didn’t presume you thought of me as anything more than a neighbor.”

“Why not?” Barring their previous misunderstanding, Bes had always tried to be friendly.

Si gave him a quizzical look, but at least he seemed less lost. “Because I was already a dried-up old fossil by the time you were knighted and old enough to be your master and then some?” He shrugged. “And I am well known for being grouchy and irritable, regardless of how unfailingly kind and optimistic you are.”

Bes looked back at him, open-mouthed, suddenly seeing their friendship from Si’s perspective. Jayzen, Si’s first padawan, had been older than Bes by several years. While Jayzen had been close to Si, many of both his and Bes’s agemates had been intimidated by the battlemaster, seeing him as a tough, but well-respected instructor, not friend material. Master Yoda had a certain timelessness to him that transcended age differences, but Si had taught _everyone_ at some point and was one of the few of his own agemates left. It was clear Si still had friends among his teaching colleagues, but he expected his former students to still regard him as an outsider.

“I do remember you as an instructor, Si, but I’m seventy-six kriffing years old, and we live in the same rest home. I think we could be considered peers, and if Knight Kenobi could put Master Yoda on his damn friend wall, then you’re probably young enough to go on mine.”

This startled a laugh out of Si.

“Cin said I could bring someone with me to the seminar, so I wouldn’t have to go by myself. And he offered to let me look at the materials ahead of time, even though he just wants me to come as a participant, not a speaker.” He stared at the wall again, but this time he was calm. “It might not be _that_ terrible.”

“What is the seminar and why doesn’t he want you to present?”

“It’s the same one the young knights were discussing, to prepare them in the event they encounter Sith. This is just a Masters’ Level section.”

Bes frowned. “Not that I don’t think getting out there would be good for you, but why can’t Drallig just pick your brain at home?”

“He can do that over the comm,” Si sighed. “He’s finally gotten Qui-Gon Jinn to take it. He says he wants someone in the group he can trust to stand up to Jinn and not be charmed by his bantha shit or dazzled by his technique. Or get so rattled by the Sith they don’t give an honest assessment.”

“He wants you to knock Jinn down a peg.”

“Basically.” The edge of Si’s sleeve had slipped back off his hand. He looked down at the finely manicured nails. “I’ve only seen the clips of the duckling fighting the Sith off after Jinn was cut down, but from what I’ve gathered from Yoda and Cin, Jinn is heavily in denial about the reasons behind his defeat and his outright terrible strategy. He’s spent too long being the best and fell apart in the face of a stronger opponent and left his padawan to face down that Sith alone.”

“Wow,” Bes tried to imagine how this could play out. “So Cin wants you there to dish out a big psychological slice of Master Si’s Humble Pie.”

Si looked mystified. “A _what_?”

“A tongue-lashing. A dressing down. An evaluation after his ego got him in enough trouble to bite him in the ass.”

“And the lung.”

“Yeah, that too.” Bes sighed. “I’d pay credits to see that.”

“To see the battle?” Si asked, confused.

“No, to see the debate!” Bes’s eyes were twinkling, imagining the mental and verbal duel. “On the one side, Qui-Gon Jinn, master diplomat, but the man who finally let his arrogance lead him one step too far. On the other side we have Battlemaster Silvanus, the one man who is never impressed when attitude exceeds skill.” He paused, letting it play out in his mind’s eye. “This could be _epic_!”

Si looked down at his clothes, not sure if he had either the brains or the wardrobe for this battle royale Bes was envisioning.

“Bes, you know Jinn was Dooku’s padawan. He was practically raised not to take me seriously.”

“And that’s why he always lost. Yan never respected your brilliant mind. He could accept you as an equal in the salle, but he never could handle that you were smarter than him.”

“I’m older than him, not smarter than him.”

“Yes, you are.”

“He’s an arrogant ass with the personality of a spiny eggplant, but he’s not a moron.”

“I know. We took classes together. But Yan can’t think past his own assumptions and his biggest one is he’s always right. Jinn isn’t quite that bad but it’s little wonder he can manage arrogance and denial that well.”

“I’m not smarter than Yan; I’m just more aware of my capacity for being wrong and stupid.”

“You are. You’re also smarter. And you’re more than smart enough to cut Jinn down to size if Cin is right about his attitude. I’ve had him in my diplomacy classes. And he _does_ respect your skill in the salle and your expertise. You’ve trounced him too many times for him to deny that.”

“Forty years ago.”

“Exactly. He thinks of Cin as a peer. You’re still the battlemaster he was too inexperienced to best. So, the Sith did the defeating part for you, just like a loss to a peer. Now you have to tell him _exactly_ what he did wrong. Even Yan knew your technical analysis was not something to ignore.”

“That was a long time ago, Bes.”

Bes fought the urge to roll his eyes, remembering the sketch of Quin again. “Yoda has kept you in practice.”

“Hmm,” Si grunted. “Thank you for the pep talk, Bes.”

“Have you decided to do it then?”

Si shrugged. “There really wasn’t a question of whether I would do it. Or make the attempt at least. Cin needs me.” He stiffened, his look far away, which over the years Bes had come to realize indicated Si was sensing something in the Unifying Force. For all that he hadn’t done much field work, he always kept tabs on the galaxy at large. “We all need to be prepared. We’ve gotten soft, lax, complacent.”

Bes cautiously patted his arm. “Well, we will find someone to help you, Si. If you don’t want my help, we can go see Ospen.” He frowned. “You’re right. This is too important to screw around.”

“It’s not that I don’t want your help, Bes.”

“You don’t want anyone’s help?” Bes forced a smile, determined not to take it personally.

“I don’t,” Si conceded. “But more importantly Cin has warned me that the footage is very upsetting and has left many Jedi unsettled or in denial. As a retired Jedi, there’s less need to subject yourself to that.”

Bes paused, catching a hint of the Force currents he suspected Si was much more attuned to. “But there is a need, isn’t there?”

Si closed his eyes. “Possibly. I really don’t want to think about why.”

“I’ll go with you, if you want me to. Even if I just wait for you outside. So you don’t have to worry about it and I won’t be offended if you find someone else.”

“What’s the Force telling you, Bes?”

For all that Si sounded like Yoda, Bes was sure he was serious.

“I think it’s telling me I should take this class of Drallig’s, whether I help you or not.”

Si breathed slow and deep. “All hands on deck. Even the trembling ones.”

“If they are Sith, they’re coming for all of us, aren’t they?”

Si shifted his stance, looking uncomfortable. “I think so.”

“Does Yoda think so?”

“Yes,” Si closed his eyes. “But not enough yet.”

“They need our help.”

“Yes. I just hope it _is_ help.”

“Let’s do it, Si.”

“Yes,” Si quietly replied after a moment. “I need to meditate.”

“I can’t take on a Sith, but we can do _this_ , Si.”

“Yes.” Si reached out and gently squeezed Bes’s forearm through his sleeve. “Thank you.” He picked up his walking staff. “I’ll send you the information so you can see if it fits into your schedule. Take care of yourself, Bes.”

“You too.” Bes waited until Si had turned the corner before putting his hand over the place Si had touched him. He hadn’t lied. He didn’t find Si irritating, far from it. What he had felt stunned him. The fear he had expected, as well as the gratitude, thought both were stronger than he had been expecting. It was the respect that was so unexpected. Si did consider him a peer, an equal, and this was not new, but he also felt he was a friend, and this had strengthened over the past week. He also felt that Si was often lonely, though the elder man was not trying to express that.

Bes felt his eyes suddenly flood with tears. It had not been lost on him that Yoda wanted his help in getting Si back out in the world. Maybe the tiny master knew more than Si gave him credit for.

Bes went to him room and wiped his eyes. Meditation sounded like a fine idea indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Lots going on in this chapter between characters (if not actual action). Any thoughts about Obi-Wan's art? Yoda's complaints? Si fears? Hope everyone enjoyed it and is staying healthy.


	13. Part XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beading, bad dreams, pontential love and affirmation as the vigil for Obi-Wan comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from _Home_ by Phillip Phillips.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoRkntoHkIE
> 
> This is a short chapter, it's just how the sections broke. The next chapter will be longer, and I think many of you will still like this one. (Judge it by it's size do not ;) ). 
> 
> In case you missed it, this story is NOT Mandalorian compliant. I wrote most of it before it came out, I haven't seen it, and I'm not paying for Disney+ when I already have cable. So, handwaving, Yoda's childhood is not like Baby Yoda's childhood. Oh well.
> 
>  **WARNING:** Attempted rape is dealt with and remembered. Force voyerism.

_Settle down, it'll all be clear,_

_Don't pay no mind to the demons_

_They fill you with fear._

_The trouble - it might drag you down,_

_If you get lost, you can always be found._

_Just know you're not alone,_

_'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home._

\--Andrew William Pearson, Greg Holden, _Home_

“I’ve never had a _Jedi_ whore before.”

There was pain in his shoulders and back as his arms were wrenched behind him.

“We’ll all have to try him, won’t we?”

“Of course.”

He was slapped across the face. Hard.

“That’s the only way he’ll learn his place.”

His arms were jerked again, and he felt hot breath against his neck.

“You’re not so strong without your little light-stick, are you?”

They were playing with his lightsaber, trying to figure out how to turn it on. He felt a wave of revulsion as the man holding him from behind snaked a hand over his hip to grope at his crotch, but the grip on his arms loosened. He forced himself to not tense up, feigning submission and biding his time as the Force urged him to.

“Oh, you don’t like that, Whore? They don’t teach you how to take it up the ass in that fancy temple of yours?”

He was turned abruptly and thrown against a metal drum, his face shoved toward the rusty lid, then past it. He glanced at the pebbles on the ground on the other side, pressed down into the mud as his belly was pushed into the rim of the drum, as harsh hands groped and squeezed and tugged at his hips, trying to get past his sash, clawing harshly as they tried to unfasten his pants. A thrust against him left no doubt as to what was to come and the barrel rocked, digging into his flesh as he tried not to fall. On the ground below, a good-sized stone rolled a few inches. It wasn’t much larger than a Breggle stone. He could feel the Force whispering to him.

The stone flew up into the face of his captor, lodging firmly in the back of the throat just as he suddenly activated his lightsaber. The man behind him began to choke as the one holding his weapon dropped it in surprise, taking a slice off his leg and half his foot as it fell to the ground and turned off. The third man, sensing the impending danger, stepped up behind him, trying to secure him before he got out of the low-quality restraints, but he had already managed to free one hand, and he heard the crunch of bone behind his elbow and an inhuman scream as he scrambled for his saber and the gate.

He was almost there, his fingertips brushing the latch, when he felt an arm reach around his neck, hot, stale breath in his face until it was all the air to breathe and a hissing voice in his ear.

“You didn’t think you’d get away _that_ easily, did you, Whore?”

He woke up suddenly, shaking and panting, in a cold sweat. It was only a dream, his brain trying to process a stressful experience until it played out all the scenarios. Until he had dealt with it. Until he was ready to go back out into the galaxy because he _would_ have to face it again and next time he might not make it to the gate.

He let out a shuddering breath, running his hands through his hair, trying to soothe himself until he was calm enough for a breathing exercise. It took him a moment to realize the lights were slowly coming up to quarter-strength. He looked up. Master Yoda was calmly sitting on his desk chair beside his bed, though he remembered shuffling it over to his desk that morning.

“Master?”

“Bad dreams having you are.” It was not a question.

“Yes.” He sat up fully and drew his legs in to sit crosswise. “I thought you went home.”

“Did.” Yoda shrugged. “Bath took. Mail read. Many crickets ate. Plants watered. Miss me they did. Severely scolded I was.”

“Please send them my apologies for keeping you away.” His real question remained unspoken.

“Still on vigil until morning you are. Healing well you have been. Due for bad dreams you are.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sighed, not sure what, if anything to say next. “Did you see?” he asked at last.

Yoda shrugged. “Pry I did not, see enough I did. Would have guessed if see I did not.” Yoda grew quiet a moment. “Healers thought escaped you did before rape?”

“Yes.” He wrapped his arms around himself. “They threatened and manhandled me, but I escaped before they got very far.”

“Use the rock you did to fight off attacker?”

Obi-Wan winced, not realizing Yoda had seen so much. “Yes, Master.”

Yoda leaned forward and patted his knee. “Good boy. Resourceful you are.”

“Master Drallig told us that the skills used in Breggle could be applied to combat and defense.”

“Yes, very useful skills they are.” Yoda looked at him intently, though Obi-Wan had lowered his head. “Hurt like that before you have been?”

“No.” Obi-Wan made himself raise his head and look Yoda in the eye, despite the twin anchors of anxiety and fatigue weighing him down. “No. It’s not the first near miss I’ve had, but I’ve never been raped.” He hunched in on himself. “This was the first time I was captured when I was alone in the field.”

“With Qui-Gon you were other times?”

“Yes. I still tried to escape, but if I couldn’t, I could still hope for rescue, or know he was there, and we could try to escape together. And his presence was a deterrant. Even if they might have wanted to or threatened to before, the fear of Master Jinn was usually enough to dissuade them from following through.”

“Closer this time than before it was.”

“Yes.” He tried to make out what Yoda was holding on his lap in the dark. “What are you doing?”

The lights came up a bit higher and Yoda held up beads on cording. “Stringing prayer beads.” He picked up the next bead, threaded the cords through, then tied them in an elegant knot to keep the beads in place. “String beads I would when on vigil with Brother Bodan. Young children often ill would be. Sometimes ill monks would be. Also, the poor would bring the sick to the monastery, seek Jedi healing. Monks held many vigils then. Wake up I do in the middle of night.” He shrugged. “Normal for species. Brother Bodan have me string beads would, stop fidgets. See well enough to do in dim light I do.”

“I’ve never seen you do bead meditations.”

“Usually I do in middle of the night or on vigil. When quiet, peaceful, safe. Remember Brother Bodan then I do, memories, childhood friends long gone.” He picked up the next bead. “Sometimes drink tea or beer instead I do.”

“Do you use the beads that hang in your sitting room?”

Yoda smiled, a small chuckle slipping out. “No, too big those are. Small hands I have.” He held one out, fingers spread to demonstrate.

“I thought it might be easier for you to hold than small ones. I used to think they were decorative, but I noticed how old they were when I was dusting.”

“Long history they have. Brother Bodan’s those were. Too large for my hands, but still feel him in them I can.” He tied another knot. “Broken string was when found body was. Found all beads knights did since large they are. Restring them many times I have.”

“I thought Brother Bodan was human.”

“Human he was. _Broad and tall_. Very big hands. Bigger than Qui-Gon or Mace.”

“That _is_ big.”

“Giantism he had. Grow too much body did. Treated he was by Jedi, the tumor kept coming back did. Finally stop it did, but very tall then. So tall that strain his heart would. Knight he could not be.” Yoda settled the beads in his lap, remembering. “When first came to monastery, very small I was. Even now, reach his knee I might not. Ride on his shoulder I would or in a bag around his neck until big enough to get around by self I was. Hung teething ring from prayer beads for me he did. Long time it took my teeth to get.”

Obi-Wan smiled at the mental image of a very tiny Yoda riding around on a giant, worrying at a teething ring.

“What did you do with all of the strung beads?”

“Give them away we would. Gave them to the sick who came to get well, or to kin if die they did. Gave to parents who children gave up did. Gave to knights that visit would, for use, or for giving away. Gave to children when grow up and leave. Old tradition it is to string plain wooden beads for funerals. Drape them over the pyre each mourner would, like flowers on a casket. Help the fire catch they would. Some watch beads burn would if bear to look at body could not. Make those we did not but did when came to Temple I did. Always had a supply on hand but make with beads of sweet-smelling wood during final vigils we did. Helped soften scent of pyre they would.”

“We don’t do that anymore?”

“Nuns still do, but better ventilation now there is. More symbolic than essential there is. Only few now used are.”

The sweat had dried from his skin. Obi-Wan lay back down and stared at the ceiling. “We made prayer beads in the creche, but we used different knots.”

“Older tradition this is. More advanced knot. Difficult for younger hands it is. The Force is required not, but easier with Force it is.” Yoda picked up another bead and Obi-Wan closed his eyes, feeling the master’s delicate manipulations of bead and cording. “Teach this to my padawans I have. Simet. Yan. Cin. Missed a lesson we have. Show you I can if want to learn you do. Prayer beads a very old tradition is, older than Jedi and Sith. Older than meditation is. Used not just for meditation long ago. Used for counting, remembering. Novices earned beads over time as new skills learned they did. Add beads on to prayer beads at ends of strings they did. See their progress they could.”

“Like padawan braids.”

“Hmm, yes. Jump ahead you have. Before padawan braids, apprentice travelers prayer beads kept, like novices. Same purpose they had, to track growth. Travelers lose belongings often or trade beads for essentials they must. Padawans started beads in their hair keeping. Harder to lose. Novice initiation and padawan first braiding very similar are, but one braid uses and other beads uses. Been to both I have.”

“That’s fascinating. Master Turvis spoke about prayer beads in general when he gave the monastic history lectures but didn’t talk about the parallels between ceremonies.” Obi-Wan turned on his left side to face Yoda, drawing up his knees. “Do you have anyone here helping you for the vigil?” he yawned. With Yoda so close, it was hard to tell if anyone else was in the apartment.

“Yes. Knight Norwal, Novice Zims. Both think the other strange is. Both right are.”

“Well, I’m in good company then.”

“Hmm,” Yoda patted his hand. “Told you I did, strange you are not. Your taste in broth strange is, the rest very normal is.”

They were both quiet for several minutes. Yoda strung another bead. Obi-Wan blinked in the darkness, wondering when the tiny master had lowered the lights without him noticing.

“Go to sleep you want not?”

Obi-Wan shrugged.

“Afraid?” There was no judgement, no scolding for not releasing his fears.

“Morose.” He huddled tighter in the bed. “A little anxious.”

“Brain still trying to escape is?”

“A little.” He made himself stretch his legs, cracking his knees. “Mostly just wondering why people try to hurt each other like that.”

“About power it is, sex not.”

“I know. One of them thought I was ugly, but he was going to do it anyway.”

“See into your heart, see you in Force he could not. Pity his blindness I do.”

“I wasn’t going to base my self-worth on his opinion, Master. I just . . . it just feels pathetic that the closest I’ve been to a sexual experience is . . . this. Even though I don’t think I want one.”

Yoda was quiet, choosing his words carefully. “Not want because desire not there is, or not want because more bad experience you have than good?”

“I still don’t think the desire is there.”

Yoda did not react to Obi-Wan’s word choice, knowing he often did not wish to speak in absolutes when it came to his emotions.

“But right now, I find the idea even less appealing than normal, so I can’t discount the current circumstances.”

“Dream from Force you had, the other person a blank still is?”

Obi-Wan yawned again. “I only had it once, so yes. I still don’t know who it could have been.”

“Self in dream, unappealing to him also it was?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “No. There still didn’t seem to be passion or lust, but there was no revulsion nor aversion. Maybe . . . pleasant acceptance?”

“Comfort?”

“Yes.”

“Trust?”

“Yes.”

“Good that felt?”

“Yes. But that implies attachment.”

“It can. Depends. Attachment a matter of degree is. Attachment a matter of selfishness is. Attachment and detachment a matter of duty, priority, identity, lust, possession can be. Attachment not just to a person can be. Still a Jedi you are if comfort, trust, love find with another you do. A Jedi emotions must control, not be ruled by. Attachment is a form of enslavement to emotions.”

“I don’t want to be attached.”

“Want to be alone you do not either.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, Simet my padawan was. Very good friend now. Old friend. Grown up now, but still padawan in my heart he is. Trust him I do. Love him I do. Comfort he gives me. Comfort I give him. Attached we are?”

“Your relationship doesn’t seem to interfere with your duties, Master.”

“Make demands of me he does? Make demands of him I do?”

“Not that I’ve seen.”

“Growing close to Bes he is. Jealous am I? Pushing Bes away am I?”

“I _thought_ you were trying to get them together.”

“I am. Healthy, happy I want Si to be, even if less of him see I do. Attachment forbidden. Love still allowed.” He patted Obi-Wan’s hand again. “Retired Jedi more attachment allowed. Hard to face old age alone is. But trust, comfort, caring, love you may have. Duty to the Force come first does, may have to leave love behind for duty. Hard that is. But whole life alone, the Force asks that not. Need a seed of love in your heart to feel Light, to defend it. Have this seed inside your heart you do. In dream, let it grow you did.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I just don’t see how.”

“Winter it was for a long time. No chance to grow. Spring now it is, but frost still comes. This experience you had, new winter it does not have to be. Cold snap only. Not yet time to grow it is. Talk to Vygor. Trust the Force. Someday, warmth come will, then let your seed grow you can. Share beautiful heart you will.” Yoda squeezed his hand. “Tell me this the Force does. Fear it you should not.”

Obi-Wan was very quiet. “The Force isn’t telling me that, Master.”

Yoda chuckled gently. “Know this I do. Time yet it is not. Not telling Simet either. Thinks he does that lie to him I did.” He shrugged. “Figure it out soon he will. Longer time for you, I think. But good progress you have made.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “What progress?”

“Good progress. More open you are. More friends you have. Listened to master you did, used vigil time to strengthen and build friendships. Let yourself vulnerable be. Learn to ask for help you did. Learn to accept help you did. Learn to trust more friends you did. Share art, share food, learn things. Progress.”

“I sat on my couch in my pajamas and drank more water than a bantha at an oasis.”

“With _friends_.” Yoda laid the beaded cord in his lap. “When padawan and sick you were, take care of you who did?”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to squirm. “Master Jinn.”

“Hmm, sometimes he did. Made vile broth when home you were. When not, left to healers you were.”

“I didn’t get sick very often, Master. Usually not more than a cold.”

“Spend time with you when sick you were did he? Strengthen bond through care did he?”

“He usually didn’t want to catch whatever I had.”

“When injured you were, vigil did you have?”

“No. I’ve been to them, but never had one before.”

“Not when ankle broke you did? Or bad burns when caught in fire you were?”

“No. Master Jinn always told me we needed to take care of ourselves.”

“No vigil he had when home after Naboo?”

“No.”

“Almost died he did. Very worried his friends were. Accept help he would not?”

Obi-Wan flopped onto his back. “He refused. He told the healers that my assistance was adequate, and he didn’t want everyone poking into his business and he didn’t want Anakin around a bunch of strangers when he couldn’t supervise.”

“Help you might have wanted, consider that he did?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “No.”

“Support from friends _you_ wanted might have?”

“I wasn’t the one who nearly died.”

Yoda closed his own eyes, trying not to remember the numbers on the healer’s reports.

“Alone in his misery Qui-Gon preferred to be. Also feared Anakin snatched from him would be while recovering he was. Care that alone you were also he did not.” Yoda reached behind him to loop the unfinished beads on the back of the chair, then moved to sit on the bed, taking Obi-Wan’s hand in his own. “Knew I did that embarrassed you would be, too much trouble you would think you are, but very normal vigil is for sick Jedi. Learned to accept help with grace you did. Let people in you did. Strangers now neighbors are. Acquaintances now friends are. Old friends caught up with you did. Closer now, less distance.” Yoda leaned close, looking Obi-Wan in the eye. “ _Progress_.” The tiny master watched his expression carefully.

“Less alone you are,” he continued. “More people you now know here,” he laid his hand on Obi-Wan’s forehead, then over his heart. “And more here. Progress.” With one last pat to emphasize the point, Yoda drew back his hand, but to Obi-Wan’s surprise he began crawling toward the head of the bed. Obi-Wan turned on his side and slid over to give him room.

“Scoot down you will,” Yoda directed when he reached the headboard, then settled down on the mattress behind the pillow. When Obi-Wan complied, Yoda guided him to lay back down and began finger-combing his hair. “Very clean your hair is.”

“Brother Folli washed it yesterday.”

Yoda pulled a small wooden comb from his belt pouch and began smoothing out mild tangles before they could snarl into knots. “Getting long again your hair is.” He took special care with the strands growing behind Obi-Wan’s right ear where his padawan braid had been. “Simet keeps his hair short does. Too hard to comb with bad hands it is.”

“Did he grow it long when he was young?”

“Yes, very long after knighting, long braid down back. Pin it up in bun when dancing he would. Cut it shorter later, easier to care for when injured he was. Short tail instead. Very thick. For formal events wear it down he would. Cin grew his hair out when knighted too. Has been long since, the style never changed he did. Make up people on holonews always new hairstyles suggest. Prefers to stay the same he does.”

Obi-Wan’s breathing was slowing. “You had very nice hair in your painting, Master.”

“Heh, young I was then. More energy then I had, to comb out long hair takes time it does. Simet helped comb my hair when young padawan he was. Braid his hair I would. In mine, the tangles comb out he did.” Yoda chuckled quietly. “Still covering bald spot I was, not as long as painting was. Gave in when senior padawan he was, had my hair cut short I did. For weeks upset he was. Grooming together our bonding time was.” He smiled to himself. “Still play with my hair he does when alone we are.” He put down the comb and picked up a handful of hair, carefully dividing it into three sections. Obi-Wan grew still.

“Remember you do, last time this I did? Morning of ceremony it was. So worried you were that pass you would not. Made you lie down so braid hair for last time I could.”

“I thought the Council was still deciding.”

“Heh, deciding level of honors still was. Question of passing there was not. Know that morning another chance I would not get.”

The familiar pattern of gentle tugging indicated otherwise.

“Also worried I was. Not about passing. Worry about you I did. Your first mission assigned already was. Sending you out alone we were. Finally feeling safe you were, had home you did, and throwing you out again I was. Send you away I did not want, but keep you here I could not either.” Having reached the end of the hair, he pulled a small elastic out of another pocket where he kept them for young padawans who lost their ties in practice, and fastened off the short, thick braid. “Not only Jedi to meditate about attachment you are. Good old master I was. Let you go so fly you could.” He lay the braid down to rest against Obi-Wan’s jaw. “My duty I did, but still padawan in my heart you are. Expect that to change, do not.”

“You’ve always been important to me too, Master.” Obi-Wan’s phrasing was awkward, cautious of being too forward, but Yoda could feel the sentiment behind it. His not quite padawan did care for him very much, but also saw him as a role model, a leader, an example to work toward. A mentor, a trusted friend and an ideal. Obi-Wan was still trying to balance them all, the roles always changing as he matured.

“Sleep now you can?” Yoda asked, though he could feel the calm filling in the spaces where anxiety had melted away.

“Yes.” Faintly. “Think so.”

Yoda settled down on his side, perpendicular to the knight, amused that he fit on so small a bed. “If find person to love you do, bigger bed you will need. Why such a narrow bed did you get?”

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly but did not open his eyes. “I seem to recall sleeping on a foam mat for three months.” He yawned. “Also, I was taking care of Master Jinn before I lived with you. It was very hard to get him in and out of his very wide bed. It always seemed more trouble than it was worth if I got injured.”

“A narrow bed good for healing is. Lousy for bed-sharing it is.” Yoda tugged affectionately on the short braid. “Even if small like me.”

“Do you have enough room?” Obi-Wan sounded concerned but barely awake.

“Heh, room enough I have.” Yoda stretched, then settled down, resting his head on the pillow, their heads just touching. “Safe you are, my not quite padawan. Sleep you can.” Yoda patted his shoulder. “Meditate I will. In morning, get back to normal we will start.”

Obi-Wan murmured something that sounded like ‘yes, Master,’ but was already asleep.

Yoda rolled over on his back, running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair and opening himself to the Force. The bedroom was a quiet, sheltered place; it had been periodically cleansed by the healers during the vigil to make it conducive to rest. Obi-Wan’s mind was at peace, not yet drifting through the dreamscape, but moored in a safe harbor. His shields were still lower than normal, but the foundations were solid, and staying home and protected had let him heal faster by not spending resources on maintaining privacy. There was new growth as well: new friends, new connections, new insights, new emotions. Definite progress.

Satisfied that Obi-Wan was well in the moment (if still healing) he turned his attention to the Unifying Force. Obi-Wan had been in a higher state of flux ever since he had returned home from his mission.

When he looked at Obi-Wan through the Unifying Force, he looked different. This was not unexpected, the knight had been away from the Temple for a few months, had been on several missions, met many new people, had a traumatic experience and a supportive healing. It was expected that the available potentials would shift and change. Some threads had faded or completely disappeared. Others were brighter than the last time, or new altogether.

It was still true that Obi-Wan would likely face great challenges in his life as a Jedi; his survival on Naboo seemed to have funneled him into this fate. His path had been intertwined with Qui-Gon Jinn’s for a long time, but that shared destiny had been almost completely severed at his eviction, and now all that remained was a pale thread. Jinn would always be a part of him, but now his absence influenced Obi-Wan more than his presence.

His romantic potentials had also changed since the last time Yoda had been so nosy as to check. The strong potential Obi-Wan had with Quinlan Vos was still there. Yoda had not been lying, but it had changed considerably. It was much brighter now, much more likely to come to fruition than before Obi-Wan had been ill, but interestingly the timeline had changed; if something _did_ develop between the two young men, it was going to be further ahead in time than before. It was very possible that Obi-Wan’s most recent experience would put him off any sort of romantic relationship even more so than usual, but it also felt like a strong friendship was now developing and it just needed more time to grow. It also held the promise of becoming a much more lasting relationship than a brief romance. Something worth waiting for.

Carefully, Yoda followed the thin thread of potential, pleased to see how strongly rooted it was. Not as inevitable or close as Si’s connection to Bes, but strong and very much within reach despite Obi-Wan’s doubts. He reached for the glittering strand, touching it gently, reading the possibilities. He smiled as he felt the path, felt the friendship that was already growing stronger, not just between Obi-Wan and Vos, but Obi-Wan and Carlin as well. He already knew both young lovers were attracted to Obi-Wan; it was interesting to note both had a potential with him now after the vigil, but it was still in the distant future. Obi-Wan was still not ready nor comfortable enough to seriously consider it. Yoda resisted the urge to feel anger at Master Jinn. He knew much of Obi-Wan’s reluctance was inherent to his personality; sex would never be a priority to him. But Obi-Wan tended to form deep friendships, and for much of his formative years, Qui-Gon Jinn has isolated him, limiting his social growth while denying him emotional closeness. It made Jinn’s request that Obi-Wan train Anakin all the more dangerous and ludicrous. How could he have handled the volatile emotions of an angry child like Skywalker when his own had been ignored and dismissed?

Yoda released the tension. Obi-Wan was not only healing, but growing, developing in ways he hadn’t been allowed to as a padawan. The master continued to observe the potential, unsurprised to feel a slight pull from it, indicating he had some small role to play. As Obi-Wan’s mentor and frequent confidant it was expected, as was a similar pull at Vygor. Carlin might also play a role, and a positive one; there was no hint of conflict or jealousy, but it didn’t have the feel of a triad, more than the potential with each was a separate entity, and friendships would remain regardless of which path was taken.

The strand shifted and changed constantly, a consequence of the many possible futures in any one life. Yoda waited patiently, hoping the Force might grant him some insight, not merely to satisfy his curiosity, but also help him guide the young man. Si was not upset, even though his dear oblivious padawan was quite sure he had been lied to, but Obi-Wan would be very hurt if his doubts got the better of him.

The master was not disappointed. The strand began to swell at a nexus point, a site where different potentials merged, a key moment or event if it did come to pass. The point grew, like a bubble, expanding and Yoda did not look away, letting it grow until it enveloped his mind, open to whatever the Force would show him.

Wherever they were, both young men were together. The room had neither the serenity of the Temple, nor the energy of greater Coruscant, but it felt relatively safe, either lodgings on a non-violent mission or a brief stop between missions.

Vos looked very relaxed, stretched out along the couch, while Obi-Wan was curled into an overstuffed chair, reading. Quinlan had taken off his gloves and was feeling the various knick-knacks and objects on the side table, soaking in the relative peace of their location and a quiet night free of conflict.

“You okay?” Vos asked while he turned a small, decorative glass paperweight over and over in his hands. “I thought the natives were never going to leave you alone.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan clicked off the data reader. “Apparently they thought I was ‘good breeding stock’ because of my ‘unusual coloring’ and wanted to know if the traits carried to my offspring. They didn’t believe me when I told them I didn’t have any children.”

“You mean you _didn’t_ have many secret affairs and father love children throughout the galaxy?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “I’m _quite_ sure I did not.”

Quin gave him a goofy grin. “I didn’t think you did.” He shook his head. “Why didn’t you just tell them you were gay?”

“I didn’t think they would accept it as a no, since at least two of them were trying to pay for a sperm sample.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I finally ‘confessed’ that I dye my hair.”

“You do not! You’re not _that_ fussy!”

“Of course I don’t, but _they_ didn’t know that.”

“Sneaky.” Quin pouted, “No one asked _me_ for a sample.”

“There were several debating whether Kiffar are near human enough to produce fertile hybrid offspring, and whether you have facial tattoos or birthmarks.”

Quin grew still. “What did you say?”

“Nothing. I did not correct their misconceptions.”

“Thank you.” He shuddered. “Sperm samples? Bleh.”

“I can’t say it’s the worst offer I’ve ever had, but I’m not inclined to take them up on it.”

“The least they could have done was offer to buy you dinner first.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. Quin exchanged the paperweight for a small, enameled hand mirror, closing his eyes and seeing other people’s faces in it.

“It would take considerably more than dinner before I would be remotely agreeable.”

Quin put down the mirror. “You have high standards?”

“My trust is hard to earn.”

“I’ve noticed.” Quin rolled over on his side and leaned his head on his hand. “You were very closed off when we first met. I do hope you feel you can trust me.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, a serene expression on his face. “I do.”

Quinlan looked back at the table and noticed Obi-Wan’s small sketchbook. He raised his eyebrows to ask permission.

“Go ahead.” Obi-Wan gave him a gentle smile.

Quin smiled back, then began flipping through the pages, feeling the emotions and impressions behind the drawings. He noted several faces he recognized before coming across his own face, feeling the trust. It wasn’t the only thing he felt.

“I trust you too.”

Obi-Wan had resumed reading, but smiled again, eyes soft. Quinlan looked back down at the picture of his face, his tattoos the only hint of color.

“I think you’re beautiful too.”

Obi-Wan’s ears turned pink, but he didn’t look up from the data reader.

Quin closed the book, put it back on the table, then stood up and walked over to Obi-Wan, who was still staring at the screen, eyes still, not reading. He leaned down and caught a lock of that bright hair that had so entranced the natives and slipped it behind Obi-Wan’s ear, tracing the shell of his ear with a bare finger. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

“I’d like to share myself with you, if you’ll let me.”

Obi-Wan did not open his eyes. “I don’t want to cause problems between you and Kressa.”

Quinlan traced his jawline from ear to chin, tipping his face up. “You won’t.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his gaze serious. “I don’t have a lot of experience.”

“I figured.”

Obi-Wan looked up at him in surprise.

Quinlan shrugged, embarrassed. “I accidentally touched your bed once.” He continued to stroke his fingertips over Obi-Wan jaw. “I know Master Jinn broke your heart, and your friends have never seen you bring anyone home after you left him.”

Obi-Wan sighed, releasing his nervousness, but trying to keep his other emotions in check. “He never touched me. He didn’t want me. Please don’t bring him here.” His voice was quiet, but not timid.

Quin let that sink in, feeling another piece of the puzzle click into place. “I do want to touch you, to feel you, to give you pleasure.” Obi-Wan was looking at him, and Quin was gratified to see his pupils dilate. “We can take it slow. I’m not going to pressure you. You can trust me, Obi-Wan.” He leaned down until they were eye to eye.

“I know.” Barely a whisper.

“May I kiss you?”

Obi-Wan smiled shyly. “Yes. I know how to do that.”

Quin smiled back, feeling that Obi-Wan was genuinely comfortable with that. He leaned in, brushing their lips together gently before deepening the kiss. Obi-Wan made an encouraging sound in his throat and Quin stroked his thumb down Obi-Wan’s cheek, then down his neck before pulling away, hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan stared up at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed.

“You _do_ know how to kiss.”

Obi-Wan blushed more, ducking his head. “Yes.”

“Can we sit on the couch and kiss some more?”

Obi-Wan put a hand on his forearm, over his sleeve, still cautious about touching bare skin without permission. Normally Quinlan would consider it a sign of disinterest, but what he felt during the kiss reassured him.

“Quinlan, I don’t know how much you can sense but,” he took a deep breath. “I don’t feel lust like most people. I have to trust someone very much, and care about them before I feel any attraction.”

“Do you care about me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Quin’s hand was back to stroking Obi-Wan’s face and he grinned when Obi-Wan gently leaned into the contact. He could feel what Obi-Wan said, but also what he didn’t say. He did care, deeply, and that was a form of love, but he kept his emotions controlled, determined to sow neither attachment nor strife. He could take pleasure in their mutual attraction, but not if it caused other’s pain, or threatened their balance or his own.

Jedi to the core.

“I care for you too. I can’t say I haven’t felt lust for you for a long time, but I won’t stop being your friend, whether we continue this or not.”

Obi-Wan held himself still, eyes closed, feeling the Force currents. Quin hoped but also braced himself for disappointment. Obi-Wan looked up at him, his smile still shy, but shining in his eyes.

“I think moving to the couch is a fine idea.”

Quin took Obi-Wan’s hand from his forearm and brought it to his lips. “I want you to touch me, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stood up, stepping into Quin’s personal space. “I want to give you pleasure too, but you might have to show me how.”

Quin began backing toward the couch, taking Obi-Wan with him, enjoying the slow simmer of growing desire. He didn’t know if they would make it to the bed tonight or not, and he was surprised he didn’t mind either way. This was a delightful moment to live in all on its own. They sat down together, lightly touching through their clothes. Quin savored the feel of Obi-Wan’s hand in his, of the deep care and love he could feel, at the same time wondering how best to proceed.

Obi-Wan beat him to the punch, boldly kissing him, taking the permission to touch and running with it. Quin leaned back, enchanted, wondering what other wonderful surprises Obi-Wan Kenobi hid under his prim Jedi robes.

The vision faded. Yoda saw a brief image of the nexus point shrinking back down before he pulled himself into his own mind to find himself on his back, blinking up at the ceiling, his clawed hand still stroking through Obi-Wan’s hair.

_Wow._

That was much more than the Force usually revealed. He had not been trying to spy on Obi-Wan’s intimate moments so much as determine whether he would have them in the first place, and what if anything he could do to help. He replayed the scene in his head, analyzing the details. Obi-Wan and Vos were noticeably older in the vision than they were now, both seasoned, experienced knights, but not old yet. If he had to guess, Obi-Wan was at least thirty in the vision, but not more than thirty-five. Yoda continued to pet his hair, wondering how much longer Obi-Wan would have to wait before the stars would align, and he wouldn’t be so alone. He decided he would continue to encourage him, but also counsel patience, that true intimacy might take a long time to grow.

Yoda rolled over and snuggled up against Obi-Wan’s head on the pillow, radiating love, care and reassurance. “Spoken to me the Force has, my not quite padawan. Know I do not what tell you the Force has, but love, intimacy something you can have is.”

Obi-Wan sighed softly in his sleep, his mind relaxed, drifting in peaceful Force currents rather than bad dreams.

“Keep mind open you must, people who deserve your trust exist do. Be afraid not.” Yoda pressed his cheek against Obi-Wan’s hair, knowing the closeness they had during the vigil must fade soon as they returned to their normal duties, but they had used this time well and their maturing friendship had grown stronger. Yoda went over the details one more time, trying to ensure he hadn’t missed anything that might help. After a moment his eyes flew open and he gave Obi-Wan a suspicious look.

“Taught you to kiss who did?” he gently smacked Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Tell me that story you did not.” He lay back down and thought it over. “Private you are, know this I do, but hope good experience it was. Jinn it was not, clearly. Hmm, Satine perhaps? Hmm, maybe, but more risk I think than comfortable with you would be.” He thought it over more. “Ooh, _Greval_?” Yoda patted his shoulder. “Teach you Greval would have. Afraid of Qui-Gon he was not. Yes, smart enough he would be to kiss only.” He rubbed Obi-Wan’s back. “Hurt your feelings I hope he did not. Poor match you would have been then, but like you very much he did.” Yoda was rather relieved that Obi-Wan did not seem to have any potentials with Greval; they had too much bad history there, but Greval had grown into a good knight, despite his earlier missteps.

“Yes, Greval it must have been. If other friends were, spill the beans they would have.” Yoda chuckled to himself. “Hope good experience it was. Whoever teach you did, it is clear that good student you were.”

With one last pat, Yoda picked himself up and stepped off the bed, returning to the abandoned prayer beads. “Love you can have, my not quite padawan. Love you can have.”

* * *

Obi-Wan woke to the simulated morning sun lighting up his room, alone, but with a feeling of comfort and peace. He looked around, fairly certain that the heart-to-heart with Master Yoda had not been a dream. His desk chair was still sitting beside his bed and hanging from the IV hook on his headboard was a completed strand of prayer beads, a small card resting in the loop. Obi-Wan opened the note, the feel of Master Yoda still strong in the room.

_My not-quite-Padawan,_

_Soon time will be that return to the stars you will. Know you will that alone you are not, even if elude you romantic love still does. Have good friends you do. Make new friends you did. Great strength you have, great strength of heart also._

_The prayer beads for the affirmation ritual is. When doubts you have, trust in self, trust in the Force_ _._

_Your not-quite-Master,_

_Yoda_

He reached out with the Force, but it was clear Yoda had gone. Someone was in his sitting room; he was fairly certain it was Kani, making sure he got up and about before the vigil ended.

He picked up the string of beads to examine them. There were different pictograms carved into each wooden bead, ancient symbols picked out by the dark stain: love, strength, wisdom, compassion. As he handled each bead, he could hear an affirmation in the Force, whispering in Yoda’s voice.

_Loved you are._

_Strong you are._

_Wise you are._

_Compassion you have._

_Joy you have._

_Friends you have._

_Kind you are._

The beads continued to the end of the cord. The last bead also had the symbol for love.

 _Love you have to give_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a short chapter, but I think we packed a lot in there. Obi-Wan bonding with Yoda, working out issues, some more Jedi culture and some potential intimacy. What do you think? (And yes, I promise, the vigil is over now. We'll revisit Qui-Gon in the next section).


	14. Part XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon has a lunch date, meets up with several old friends, imparts his wisdom, shows Ani what Jedi do for fun, gets a dose of reality and finally gets some answers. Dexter Jettster is _not_ amused, Knight Jerrold is _not_ amused and Yoda is _really_ not amused, but Anakin has a great time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from _Big Yellow Taxi_ by Joni Mitchell.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvtJPs8IDgU
> 
> Personally, I think Joni Mitchell is a terrific songwriter, but I'm just not a huge fan of her singing voice, so the link is to the cover by Counting Crows with Vanessa Carlton. I do know who Joni Mitchell is. 
> 
> I think several of you will like this chapter, there are several payoffs you have been waiting for.
> 
> There are no specific warnings for this chapter.

_Don't it always seem to go_

_That you don't know what you got 'til it's gone_

_They paved paradise, and put up a parking lot._

\--Joni Mitchell, “Big Yellow Taxi.”

Anakin stepped into the fresher at his therapist’s office and washed his face. Sometimes he really didn’t like talking about his feelings and Healer Milla asked about stuff he didn’t want to talk about, but she always told him it was okay to cry and stomp and yell and let his feelings out (though she _did_ encourage him _not_ to use the Force when he did so. He kind of liked that she was the only authority figure telling him that he shouldn’t use the Force but it was okay to get mad).

Today they had been talking about his mother again. He really missed her, and he hadn’t realized when he was freed that it would take _so long_ to be a Jedi, much less get back to Tattooine to free his mom. He certainly hadn’t seen all the stars and planets yet, but he had seen Coruscant and the initiates had been taken on an overnight camping trip to Arkel IV. It had been neat to see how the stars were different there, and he was glad they had the campfire to keep warm, even though the nights were warmer than the dark chill of his homeworld. And the trees were nice.

He finished up and dried his face, then left, waving goodbye to Miss Jessren, the civilian receptionist who booked the appointments and offered him a taffy from the jar on her desk if he arrived early. She gave him a smile. She reminded him of the woman who ran the message service in Mos Espa, who also gave out treats, but they were always dry and stale in the desert air.

When he got back to his room in the Initiate Dorms, there was a message from the Floor Docent to come see him as soon as he got back. Ani sighed, wondering what the docents thought he had done wrong _this_ time. He mentally made a list of all the improper, un-Jedi-like things he had done in the past week. Zoolo had said he wasn’t supposed to be so attached to him mom, so he called Zoolo a poop-head, but he didn’t use the word ‘poop.’ He had been staying up late reading books about lightsaber construction and had been scolded for not being prepared and able to pay attention in class, but he started setting a lights-out alarm (and not ignoring it) and his instructors now seemed pleased. He hadn’t gotten into any physical fights lately, and was doing better at drilling, but Master K’Trill had said he was being enrolled in some sort of sissy dance class to correct his form. Jedi were warriors, not dancers. Dancing was something poor girls did for rich men and Hutts, but Jedi were weird. He hoped he wouldn’t have to swing on a pole.

As he walked toward the docent’s office, the only other thing he could think of that he had done wrong recently was get mad and annoyed at a stupid game one of his tutors tried to get him to play with some of his agemates. The other two initiates had called it a ‘baby game’ and had levitated their stones easily and sneered when he struggled, despite the tutor’s scolding, reminding them Anakin had never done this before. He had caught on quickly but knew he would be made fun of for needing to learn baby games. He ignored the tutor’s direction to try to lift a third stone from the pile on the floor and instead tried to tug away one of the stones Cubi was levitating. Cubi had shrieked in outrage, Bulo snatched his own stones up protectively with his hands and Anakin had dropped his first two stones when he stopped paying attention to them.

The tutor had tried to rein in the chaos and explain they were trying to play a ‘friendly game,’ so that was a broken rule, but they could try other games some other time, clearly with some other players.

Anakin hoped the tutor had given up. It was a stupid game.

He peeked into the docent’s office and was surprised to see Qui-Gon Jinn sitting in the only other adult chair in the room.

“Master Qui-Gon?”

“Hello Ani.”

“There you are Initiate Skywalker.” The docent didn’t seem mad, which was admittedly unusual. “Master Qui-Gon stopped by to take you to lunch while you were at your appointment.” The docent clicked a few keys on his data reader, calling up his active record and checked it over.

“Your studies are up to date, your drilling has improved, and you don’t have any other appointments today. You are scheduled for kitchen duty tonight at 17:00, but you are free to spend the afternoon with Master Jinn if you want to.”

“Yes, please!” This was much better than any of his previous interactions with the docents.

Docent Redmond leaned down to look Anakin in the eye. “Master Jinn has also asked permission to take you outside the Temple for lunch. Is that alright with you?”

“Outside the Temple?”

Qui-Gon smiled reassuringly. “It’s almost your birthday, Anakin. I thought you might like to go out for bantha burgers.”

Ani’s face lit up. “Really? We can go?”

Docent Redmond smiled. “Yes, you can.” He gave Qui-Gon a sharp look. “I trust you know the rules, Master Jinn, and will bring him back in one piece?”

“Yes, Docent.” Master Jinn did look sincere.

“Good.” He turned to Anakin. “Have a good time, Initiate Skywalker, and do as Master Jinn says while you are out. We are placing you in his care and you should stay with him and behave well. Also,” the docent smiled. “Have a very good time and happy early birthday.”

“Thank you, Docent.” Anakin bobbed his head, still not comfortable with all the bowing Jedi did if they were supposed to be free. Master Jinn also thanked the docent and bowed his head, then stood, offered his hand, and led a gleeful Initiate Skywalker out of the dorms and toward the public transports.

“My birthday isn’t until next month,” Anakin whispered, as if he thought Master Qui-Gon might have been pulling a con job on Docent Redmond.

“I know,” Master Qui-Gon stopped under the sign for one of the hover-bus routes to wait. “I’ve been assigned a mission and might not be in the Temple on your actual birthday.”

Anakin’s grip on his hand tightened. “Are you fixed enough for that?”

Qui-Gon winced internally. The healers had put his sex life on hold for so long he had started to wonder if he _had_ been ‘fixed.’ Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the long make out sessions with Tahl. “Yes, I’m doing much better. And I’m not going out on a mission like Naboo. This is a research mission for the Council. Lots of dusty libraries and long nights reading.” He did not mention that he had not yet passed the physical requirements for field work, nor that the Council was sending him with an aide as if he were an old man.

“So it will be safer.”

“Yes. My missions will be less physically stressful for a while. I’m still drinking my protein shakes.”

“Me too.” Anakin wrinkled his nose as the hover-bus pulled up. “Why can’t I just have an extra bantha burger twice a week instead? They taste better.”

Qui-Gon chuckled as they boarded, the droid scanning their IDs. “They are also more expensive, require someone to cook and are more perishable. And they have less healthy fats.”

“Well, can I count the bantha burger as one this week?”

“They have different flavors of protein shakes, Ani.”

“I know. But I don’t like being ordered to drink it.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Then you will face a great deal of frustrated feelings in your lifetime as a Jedi.”

“And I’ll have to meditate and release my feelings to the Force?” Anakin’s expression was vaguely mutinous.

“Pretty much.” Qui-Gon stood carefully, grumbling internally as the transport swayed and he had to make more of an effort to stay balanced than he had before his injury. “This is our stop.”

Anakin followed him curiously as they exited the bus and onto a walkway. He didn’t realize where they were going until they turned the corner and there it was.

“We’re going to Dex’s Diner?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon glanced down at him, surprised. “How did you know about Dex’s?”

There was a definite spring in Anakin’s step now. “Obi-Wan took me here before the healers let you come home.”

“Huh,” Qui-Gon tried to remember the last time he had been here and realized it was a considerably long time before he had been injured on Naboo. Hopefully Dex wouldn’t be too upset with him.

He held open the door and ushered Ani inside. This diner was exactly as he remembered: cozy booths, stools at the counter, the smell of bantha grease, pastries in the display case, and a slightly shady clientele. Perhaps not the best place to bring a child who wasn’t technically his padawan, but he suspected Ani would find the atmosphere more familiar than not.

He smiled at FLO as the droid came by to greet them, but she took one scan of him and beeped loudly. “Honey, a dead man just came in. Total jerk by the look of him.”

Qui-Gon winced, smile frozen in place. Clearly it had been too long if he had graduated to ‘dead man.’

Dex pushed open the shutters on the kitchen window, scowling. “Surely you must be mistaken, FLO. That can’t be Qui-Gon Jinn. He wouldn’t dare show his face here as a _ghost_ and drive my customers away.” Dex immediately left the kitchen and ambled up to Qui-Gon and Ani, an outraged expression on his face. One pair of arms was waving wildly while the other pair were crossed above his ample stomach. Behind him, his kitchen droid, SOUS, dropped three knives and put out a small grease fire on the grill, squealing in protest.

“Just where the hell have you been, Jinn?” Dex was genuinely angry. “I thought you were dead!”

“I am sorry.” Apology seemed the best course of action here. “I’ve been on medical leave and have only started getting out of the Temple recently.” He was pretty sure Dex was still scowling, but with him being a Besalisk, it was hard to tell.

“You couldn’t call? We have comms you know. We even do delivery if you can’t manage to drag your carcass down here.”

“I didn’t mean to stay away so long, Dex.”

“You rat bastard,” Dex huffed. “I know exactly when you were hurt, you’re enough of a local celebrity in the Senate District that they story was all _over_ the holonews that you were gravely injured and not expected to live. Snake Mother _forbid_ they bother to mention whether you survived.”

Qui-Gon blushed, and though his face was warm, he was grateful he was physiologically healthy enough to do so.

“Then, weeks after all _that_ calms down, your padawan comes by and brings this little Tatoo-rat here,” he paused to pat Ani on the head with an inferior arm. “And says you’re getting better, and that you should be back soon when you’re healthy enough with your _new apprentice_.” He glowered, then lowered his head to carefully inspect Ani’s hair. “I don’t see a braid.” He straightened to look Qui-Gon in the eye. “And then I don’t hear anything _ever again_. _You_ don’t come. _He_ doesn’t come. Even the little rat doesn’t come. I really thought you were _dead_ this time.”

“I _am_ sorry, Dex. I promise, if I can’t visit for a long time, I will call in the future.”

“Hmm.” The flailing had stopped. Now the superior arms were crossed, and the inferior pair were slack at his sides. “Did something happen to Obi-Wan?” he asked, quietly.

“No,” Qui-Gon could hear how stupid he sounded. “He hasn’t come by?”

“No. He hasn’t.” Dex was gazing at him, apparently understanding that an injured Jedi might not visit, but hurt when a whole group of them dropped out of his life.

Qui-Gon frowned. “He was knighted. A while ago. His mission runs tend to be long, but he’s young, so he does get called back to the Temple. I don’t know why he wouldn’t come by, unless . . .”

_Oh._

The Besalisk glared, waiting for an explanation.

“I’m sorry, Dex. I think he hasn’t been by to see you because he’s avoiding me.”

A suspiciously timed hoot of laughter came from the far end of the counter.

Dex did not look away. “Yes. That’s what all the other Jedi said too.” He sighed, releasing his anger and tension in a rush that would have made Yoda proud. “Can I hug you or will that hurt you?”

Qui-Gon spread his arms. “Just be gentle.”

Dex hugged him very carefully, half-smothering Ani between them (who laughed uproariously when he managed to get some air), then pointed out a table for them to sit at.

“Sit down, you look terrible. FLO will bring you some drinks and I’ll come chat more after I get these burgers done.”

“Thank you, Dex.”

Qui-Gon and Anakin slid into their seats and FLO rolled over with menus and wax crayons for Ani. For a moment, Qui-Gon remembered Obi-Wan coloring in his placemat with newly purchased colored pencils, the two of them discussing the Force, or his academics, or history or nothing of consequence. Qui-Gon had chided him on his choice of media, that it would inevitably be spoiled when hot plates of food were placed there. Obi-Wan had shrugged, explaining he had only been testing out the new pencils and was not concerned that the placemat was ephemeral.

Ani quickly glanced at his menu, declared he was getting a bantha burger, then dug into the wax crayons, coloring with great enthusiasm. After a few more minutes, FLO brought over water (Ani _always_ ordered water, astonished that it came free with the meal) and a hot tea for Qui-Gon, then took their orders.

Qui-Gon was about to ask Anakin how his classes were going (and ask whether any knights or masters had approached him yet) when a shady-looking tough from the far end of the counter approached their table. Qui-Gon had his back to him, watching the door, but Anakin had a full view and judging by his face, he was not there to sell them Urban Scout Cookies.

“Well, if it isn’t Qui-Gon Jinn, Maverick Jedi Master.” He loomed over their table, hands on his hips, a huge blaster strapped to his thigh just over Anakin’s eye level.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “Marcus.”

"Quigs,” he grinned. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this fine specimen of Jedi training?”

Qui-Gon gave him a sour look. “Anakin, this is Jedi Knight Marcus Jerrold. Marcus, this is Initiate Skywalker.”

“Charmed.” Marcus held out a fist for bumping. At Qui-Gon’s nod, Ani obliged. Marcus did not react to Ani’s powerful Force presence, which Qui-Gon knew could be overwhelming when touching him, even if one were _not_ particularly psychometric, but Qui-Gon had no doubt he could feel it.

“Dare I ask why you are here on Coruscant?” Qui-Gon asked, trying to decide if he wanted Marcus to join them.

“Oh, the usual. Do laundry. Scout out initiates. Tighten my form. Get scolded by Drallig.” He looked down. “I need new boots, so shoe-shopping. Eat some bantha burgers. If I get to catch up with old friends, well, added bonus.”

“Knight Jerrold does a lot of work in the Outer Rim, so he doesn’t get back to the Temple often” Qui-Gon explained.

“I don’t know why the Council thought my skills would be put to best use there,” Marcus mused. “But apparently they decided they needed new blood for the Aldera Biennial, and we old men don’t deserve such comfortable assignments anymore.”

“I _was_ surprised they didn’t send you in my stead,” Qui-Gon admitted.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t.”

“You were extremely well-qualified, particularly given your current assignment.”

Marcus opened his mouth to speak, then glanced at Anakin, his expression morphing back to that of a carefree, jovial jokester. “It wouldn’t be any fun without you. I told the Dragon to send Vos and Carlin instead, so I didn’t have to drag myself all the way to the Core for a few nights of good ale and nerf fillets. Word is her Majesty was pleased.”

“Apparently,” Qui-Gon have him a warning look.

Marcus wasn’t moving. Qui-Gon gave in. “Would you like to join us?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Qui-Gon reluctantly slid over and Marcus sat beside him.

“So, Initiate Skywalker, was it? Are there any good younglings in your class looking to be padawans?”

“Marcus!” Qui-Gon scolded. “Don’t ask him that. We both know you’re not going to take a padawan.”

“No, but I asked, so now when Yoda asks me if I’ve looked at the initiates, I can say ‘yes Master Yoda, I did.’” He glanced at Anakin. “You don’t have to answer.”

Ani giggled.

FLO rolled over to take their orders. Marcus asked for caff, a slice of pie and his total bill. FLO gave Qui-Gon a disapproving beep but did not otherwise comment.

“How long are you going to be in town?” Qui-Gon asked, not quite sure he really wanted to know.

“A couple months, actually. Taking an in-Temple sabbatical. Also doing some strategic planning with the other outpost coordinators. And I have to take a class. I hear it’s all your fault.”

Ani looked amused. “Why?”

“ _Why_?” Marcus glared at Qui-Gon. “Because this oaf decided to pick a fight with a possible Sith and draw the boogeymen out of their thousand years of hiding and now, _me_ , at _my age_ , has to go to a class run by _the Troll_ , because this man,” he pointed at Jinn. “Decided to negotiate with his lightsaber instead of his mouth.”

Anakin looked torn between being interested and scared. “You have to take a class about bad guys?”

Marcus shrugged. “Well, about Dark Side users, no gender specificity, so ‘bad persons,’ deemed bad for their questionable methods of Force use.” He glanced at Qui-Gon again. “Apparently getting impaled is not an effective means of defeating them.”

Qui-Gon looked above and silently pleaded to the Force for mercy. Perhaps a spilled cup of caff in Marcus’s lap or an out of control speeder busting through the front windows.

“That was bad,” Anakin agreed.

“It was.” Marcus turned back to Qui-Gon. “The Troll doesn’t like that method either, so he’s running a class so we can learn some other tactics to try.”

“Who is the Troll?” Anakin was fairly sure that trolls were imaginary, but the other initiates thought dragons were make believe, so he really wasn’t sure.

Marcus laughed. “I probably should clean up my language around young, impressionable minds. I meant Battlemaster Drallig. The three of us were padawans and young knights together, and that is his nickname.”

Anakin giggled, hand over his mouth. “Why? Aren’t trolls supposed to be giant? Like Master Qui-Gon?”

Marcus frowned. “I think Tahl started it. Something about his hair?”

“Something like that,” Qui-Gon replied in a tone indicating Ani shouldn’t ask more.

The boy laughed harder.

Marcus asked Ani how he was doing in his classes, what he liked to do and his opinions on burger condiments. Ani asked what Marcus did as a Jedi and if he had ever been to Tattooine. Marcus explained that he was appointed by the Council to be a Jedi Ambassador in the Outer Rim, serving to assist knights in the field, gather information, and coordinate between the Council and Jedi personnel in the area, and that yes, it was the Outer Rim, but given that it was a rim, he didn’t actually work near Tattooine, but that was probably for the best because his Huttese was terrible.

Qui-Gon asked when Marcus was taking Cin’s class and was pleased to find out they were enrolled for the same term, at the end of next month. Marcus seemed surprised Qui-Gon hadn’t helped develop the class since he had actually fought the Sith.

He shrugged. “I was rather incapacitated after the injury and then completed the hard PT on Trell. I assume Cin wasn’t willing to put it off that long if he felt this was a serious threat.”

“Did Obi-Wan help instead?”

“I doubt it,” Qui-Gon frowned. “He was supposed to be getting ready for his trials. Of course, the Council likely debriefed him and would have shared the information with Cin.”

“I heard he moved in with Yoda?” Marcus asked.

Qui-Gon’s look indicated he did not want to discuss that. “Yes, well, I’m sure Master Yoda picked his brain for details while he was there.”

“I don’t want to live with Master Yoda,” Ani colored in another speeder on his menu, this one yellow. “Mookie says that the ceiling is really low, and all the visitors have to crawl around his quarters.”

Marcus and Qui-Gon burst out laughing.

“Are the initiates still telling each other that?” Marcus snickered, then looked at Anakin. “That isn’t true.”

“His ceiling is little bit low, but even I only have to stoop a little bit.”

“Cin doesn’t have a problem.”

“Let’s hope not,” Qui-Gon shook his head. “Poor man lived there for _years_.”

FLO came by with their burgers and pie. Ani promptly dug in and quietly ate for the next fifteen minutes. Qui-Gon and Marcus caught up with each other and made plans to get together for a drink (even if it was just a soft drink) later that evening. Marcus finished his pie, paid his bill and headed out with a jovial wave and a sarcastic comment about a Council meeting. Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief. Marcus was a good friend, but not exactly the best influence around younglings, his years on the spacelanes rubbing grit into his once polished Coruscant veneer.

“He was funny,” Anakin grinned as he dipped his tato wedges into various combinations of condiments, which Qui-Gon found vaguely revolting.

“Marcus has his charms.”

“Isn’t he old to be a knight?” Anakin asked. “I thought most old Jedi were masters.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Not all of them, no. Not every knight reaches the level of master, nor even seeks it. Even among my agemates there are still more knights than masters. You have to train at least one padawan to knighthood, and there are other requirements before you can be considered. Marcus prefers to remain a knight, but he has technically trained a padawan.”

Anakin frowned. “But he could be a master?”

“Probably, if he wanted to and fulfilled the other requirements, took the Master’s Trials, and let himself be recognized for some of his greater deeds. Or if he successfully trained another padawan.”

“How many padawans did you have?” Ani gave him a piercing look. “Obi-Wan always called you ‘Master’ so who did you train before him?”

Qui-Gon contemplated his salad a moment, composing himself for a difficult subject. “My first padawan was a young man named Feemor. I trained him to knighthood and he works mostly in the Outer Rim, like Marcus. I don’t see him very often, but I’ve heard he has successfully raised a padawan himself when he still worked closer to home. I don’t know if he has been made a master or not. You may have seen a pic of him in my quarters, he was the padawan with the thick, blond hair.”

“Yes,” Ani nodded. “He had a big smile.”

“He had a wonderful personality when he was young.” Qui-Gon sipped at his tea. “My second padawan was named Xanatos. He was very intelligent, very strong in the Force, and a very challenging student. He did not take his trials and has since passed into the Force.”

Anakin looked up at him in surprise. “He died?”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon kept his expression solemn. “That was a long time ago.”

“Before you trained Obi-Wan?”

“No, actually. Obi-Wan was, umm, fifteen or so when Xan passed. Fifteen or sixteen.”

“Why didn’t he take his trials? Did he not get everything done before you had to take Obi-Wan?” the boy asked guilelessly.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. Best the boy hear it from him first.

“On the last mission before Xan would have been sent to his trials, he turned to the Dark Side of the Force and left the Order.”

Anakin stared at him, wide-eyed, a half-bitten tato wedge forgotten at his lips. “That really happens?”

“Yes, Anakin, it does. Jedi are people. They can do good things and bad things, just like everyone else. But the Dark Side of the Force can pull on us just as the Light Side can. And once you choose the Dark Side, it becomes easier to do it again and harder to turn away.”

Anakin gave him a skeptical look. “That sounds like what they tell us about death sticks.”

Qui-Gon’s tone was serious. “That’s because they are actually very similar.” He sipped more tea. “You saw people on Tattooine who took drugs, yes? Or drank too much?”

“Yes.” Ani resumed eating his lunch.

“Some of them drank or took drugs for fun, or because it feels good at first, but many of them kept taking drugs because it was an easier way of dealing with their emotions. It made them feel good so they could forget what didn’t feel good in their lives. But what happened when the drugs ran out?”

“They were sick. And they felt bad.”

“Did it solve their problems?”

“No.”

“Did they have more problems?”

“Yes.”

“Did the drugs change who they were, so they didn’t look the same, and act the same, and care about the people they used to love?”

“Yes. They felt weird in the Force, but I didn’t know that was the Force then.”

“The Dark Side is like that too. It’s easier to do and it feeds off strong emotions, so it _can_ make you feel good at first. You’re angry and you give into your anger. You’re frightened and you lash out at what scares you. You’re jealous, or envious or greedy and you take what doesn’t belong to you. And just like with drugs, people get hurt and it’s not just you. And just like death sticks, it gets harder to stop once you start. Master Yoda has probably told you that once you turn to the Dark Side, it will dominate your life forever. Most Jedi your age think that means that you would be a Fallen Jedi forever, but it’s more subtle than that, more like a drug addict trying to stay sober. You will be changed by the experience and always know you could go down that path again and it will be easier next time. There _are_ Jedi who have touched the Dark, and though they might never do so again, it will always be harder for them. Some still turn. And a Dark Jedi can hurt many more people than a death stick addict can.”

“So he stayed bad? Your second padawan?”

“He did,” Qui-Gon nodded. “He took over the rule of his home planet from his late father, took control of a powerful mining company that caused all sorts of environmental damage on many worlds for profit, including his own, killed people and had people killed. Eventually, his mistakes also cost him his own life too, but not without a great deal of suffering to others.”

“He hurt a lot of people because he made bad choices?”

“Yes. Being a Jedi is a big responsibility.”

Anakin was quiet for several minutes. “My dorm master said I don’t have to be a Jedi Knight.”

Qui-Gon took a moment to release his knee-jerk anger. This was something dorm masters and docents told _all_ the initiates, particularly as they reached Anakin’s age. “What did they say?”

“They said I’m really good with mechanical stuff and I should think about joining the Engineering Corp, whether I get to be a knight or not. They said I probably wouldn’t be very good in the Agri Corp because I grew up on a desert planet and don’t have a good Force sense of plants, but I might like the Exploration Corp too, because they go out and try to see all the stars and find new ways to get there.” He frowned. “Jobe turned thirteen last week. He was sent to a farm and didn’t get to be a padawan. He was really sad about it. He did the best he could and did well in all his classes and still didn’t get picked.” He looked up at Qui-Gon. “I’m still so far behind. How will I ever get picked?”

“You’re learning quickly, Ani. And your dorm master is right, you’re very talented with mechanics, so even if you weren’t selected, I very much doubt you would ever be sent to a farm. But you are very gifted and very strong in the Force. I have every confidence you will be selected as a padawan.”

Anakin played with the condensation on his water glass. “Why won’t the Council let you pick me? I’ll be eleven soon. I’ll be old enough.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “Remember how I said I made mistakes and did some things wrong when I brought you here?”

Ani nodded.

“I made some other mistakes too, and the Council feels I need a break from training padawans.”

“They put you in time out?”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon pasted on a smile, but Ani still looked serious.

“Is it because they didn’t want me to be a padawan or because Obi-Wan was a bad padawan?”

Qui-Gon was stunned by the question, trying to formulate a response. “Neither. The Council thought training you to be a knight could be dangerous. You were old to be starting as an initiate, and young to be a padawan. They eventually compromised to let you be an initiate, but they still have concerns, which is probably why your dorm masters are suggesting the Engineering Corp. It might suit your interests and personality if you don’t want to become a Jedi Knight. They still are not sure if knighthood is the best path for you, and not allowing me to take any padawans does prevent _me_ from training you, but that wasn’t the reason why. They had already blocked me from doing so.”

Anakin looked at the table, then back up at Qui-Gon. “So, Obi-Wan _was_ a bad padawan?”

He blinked at the boy, unsure if Anakin was trying to determine if he was a bad teacher or if Obi-Wan was the only example of a padawan he knew well.

“Why do you think Obi-Wan was a bad padawan?”

Anakin shrugged. “He was worried about failing his trials and the other initiates talked about him. They said he was too old and should have been a knight and they wanted to be your next padawan. And you weren’t happy with him.”

Qui-Gon looked at his hands. “The other mistakes I made had to do with how I trained Obi-Wan. I did some things wrong and made some bad choices that made things difficult for him, and the Council does not want me to repeat those mistakes with another padawan.”

“Some of the initiates said he was a bad padawan because he let you get hurt on Naboo, and because he’s not strong in the Force, and he was such a bad padawan he had to get extra tutoring from Master Yoda before he could pass his trials. They said the creche masters were surprised he passed, and we shouldn’t be his padawan unless we were almost thirteen.”

 _Ouch_. Qui-Gon knew initiates could be cut-throat, much more so than padawans who weren’t really competing against each other, and many older padawans were looked at with resentment as there were never enough masters to go around.

“It’s not kind to speak about others like that.”

“I know,” Anakin sighed. “But I’m trying to figure out how good I have to be to be a Jedi Knight.”

“And Obi-Wan is someone you know?”

“Yeah.”

Qui-Gon assumed he was probably partially responsible in this, considering he still wondered how Obi-Wan had passed his trials himself.

“Do you think Obi-Wan is not strong in the Force?”

“Yes,” Anakin answered. “He doesn’t shine like you do. And when I asked about _his_ midi-chlorians he said it was rude and didn’t say anymore.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “It _is_ rude, though you can be forgiven for not knowing. Obi-Wan is never going to be the strongest Jedi in the galaxy, but he seems to be doing well as a knight. And he is a private person, so he doesn’t reach out in the Force as much as I do.”

Anakin still looked skeptical. “Did Master Yoda have to give him extra lessons?”

“I don’t know what Master Yoda taught him Ani. He was no longer my padawan. But,” he sighed. “After fighting a Sith, taking care of me _and_ taking care of you was too much responsibility to put on him, especially if he had to prepare for his trials. He was very stressed by it and very isolated. I think Master Yoda gave him time to come to terms with his fears so he could concentrate on getting ready and healing from the fight.”

“He was hurt in the fight?”

“Yes. Not as badly as I was, but he was. I didn’t find out until later.” He had mentioned Yoda talking about it during his therapy sessions and how he hadn’t noticed anything amiss. His healer had casually left him alone with the records he just so happened to have checked. Obi-Wan had escaped any broken bones or saber burns, but had had several hard landings and blows, particularly when he had fallen. The image of his bruised back had been quite eye-opening, as were the out-of-whack midi-chlorian counts Yoda had been harping on. He still did not know what is meant or why it was important, but it was very, very strange. Yoda hadn’t been exaggerating, his counts had been very high, even days later when they returned to Coruscant (leading to a flurry of new tests) and in fact did not fully return to his normal low until after he had moved in with Master Yoda. What made it even stranger was how normal everything else was. He still had increased levels of stress hormones (which was frankly more concerning than even the bruising) and mild anemia consistent with healing, but the other measures, the counts, even the actual cells, were just so damn normal. It was as if his body had just decided he would have to be a much stronger Jedi for a few days, then slowly went back to his normal self. _Strange_.

“So Obi-Wan fought the Sith too? He didn’t run and hide or leave you to do it yourself?”

Qui-Gon straightened up tall in his seat. “Just what are the initiates saying about it?”

Ani shrugged. “One of the padawans said that. He said _he_ wouldn’t have left you alone to kill a Sith by yourself and that you wouldn’t have been hurt if _he_ was there. There was a knight there too who said he didn’t know what he was talking about.”

“The knight was right. Obi-Wan fell behind, but he wasn’t hiding. He fell off a catwalk and it took him a while to catch back up.” If this was the rumor mill, it was no wonder Cin was eager to get the facts out there.

Anakin looked up at him, eyes wide. “Those narrow bridges in the power complex? He fell off one of _those_?”

“Yes, he did.” He gave Anakin a searching look. “Were you there?”

The boy nodded. “Padme and Captain Panaka took me there because I was afraid the Sith would come back. They showed me the hole he fell down.”

“Did they?” Qui-Gon suddenly realized he didn’t actually _know_ how the Sith had died. He had been told that thing was dead, but he couldn’t remember how it had happened, exactly.

“Yes. I was afraid I’d fall off when he went there. Did he slip while he was running?”

“No, he was kicked off the catwalk during the fight.”

Anakin’s eyes were like saucers. “You were _fighting_ on those things? But the pits went so far down!”

“I agree, it wasn’t the safest location for saber fighting.” Qui-Gon leaned down close. “It’s also considered an honor if Master Yoda chooses to assist in your training, outside of his usual classes.” He looked down, slightly embarrassed. “Somewhere along the way I forgot that.”

“So, he taught Obi-Wan because he was a _good_ padawan?”

Qui-Gon stared into his near empty teacup. “Master Yoda has always felt Obi-Wan is a Jedi we can’t afford to lose.” He shrugged. “Master Yoda is much stronger in the Unifying Force than I am, so I don’t know what it is he sees in Obi-Wan specifically, but I trust that Yoda sees something in him I can’t.”

“What do you see in me?”

Qui-Gon smiled. “The potential to be a great Jedi.”

Ani gave him a suspicious look. “I’m not a good Jedi now?”

“Not yet,” Qui-Gon snorted. “In fact, I hear you’re still a Tattoo-rat.”

“Aww.”

FLO came by to take their plates and clear the table, then take their orders for dessert. Ani happily ordered a sundae, while Qui-Gon looked longingly at the caff (still off limits) and ordered a cold glass of fruit tea instead. Ani returned to coloring and Dex brought out Qui-Gon’s tea and matching sundaes for himself and Ani. Grinning, Ani ducked under the table to sit on Qui-Gon’s side to let Dex join them.

“Thank you, little Tattoo-rat.” He handed Ani his dessert, topped with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream. “You need more fat on your bones, or you won’t be able to swim.”

Ani looked up at Qui-Gon as he dug in with his spoon. “I don’t like swimming. It’s wet. And cold.”

“Clearly a desert rat,” Qui-Gon commented.

“Clearly.” Dex leaned over, serious. “I’m not taking sides in your argument. You are both grownups, and diplomats, and,” he leaned closer, slowly enunciating. “ _Je-di_. I don’t care what you are fighting about, you tell him I want to see him in this diner to make sure he isn’t starving to death on his own.”

Qui-Gon held up his hands. “I would, Dex, really, but . . . we don’t speak anymore.”

Dex did not look appeased. “So, fix it.”

Qui-Gon winced. “I can’t.”

Dex looked down at Ani. “Do _you_ talk to Obi-Wan?”

Ani swallowed a huge mouthful of frozen delight and made his ‘brain freeze’ face, then grinned. “Yes.”

“Really?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Yes. Master Yoda still brings us to watch the knights spar. Sometimes he’s there.” He frowned. “He doesn’t fly around as much anymore.”

“Can you tell him to visit, please?” Dex asked.

Ani shrugged. “Okay. But I don’t know when I’ll see him. We only see him once in a while.”

“Thank you.” Dex began eating his own sundae.

“You can also tell him I said it was okay,” Qui-Gon added.

Ani rolled his eyes, impatient with grownup drama. “He built a new lightsaber. We saw it in class. It’s really neat. It even turned on after it got wet.”

“They don’t work if they get wet?” Dex asked. “You mean I could defeat a rogue Jedi with a _hose_?”

Anakin laughed uproariously. “Well, you’d have to surprise him.”

“And then defeat him in open hand combat,” Qui-Gon added.

Ani looked Dex up and down, giggling. “Or sit on him.”

Dex roared with laughter, and Qui-Gon knew that somewhere in all this the Besalisk had forgiven him.

* * *

The transport back to the Temple was half-empty and quiet. Ani took the opportunity to look out the windows, unimpeded by many tall adults. The towering buildings soared above them, while the deep chasms below that held the lower levels looked like a deep ocean, hawkbats flocking like coastal birds.

They came back to the Temple, passing through the security checks, then the lifts from the Visitor’s Hall to the gardens for their usual round of Twenty (Thousand) Questions. First, they stopped at the Pond Garden, so Anakin could see the fish (and hopefully learn some creatures did enjoy swimming), then took a lovely stroll through the Meadow Garden, getting fresh mown grass on their boots. Qui-Gon was able to coax a half-tame lagomorph to sit with them and be pet, and they counted all the different birds and insects they could find.

Anakin asked about the different Service Corp, and what they did and if it was really bad to be sent to them. Qui-Gon assured him that some Jedi were drawn to the Service Corp and if it was something they wanted to do, they tended to do very well, but that many of them had a rough adjustment period while they grieved for their dream of becoming knights, while others adjusted more quickly, relieved to be away from the pressure.

Anakin also reported being told that some of the knights did work in the Service Corp. Qui-Gon confirmed this as well, that some projects were undertaken in dangerous places, or that some negotiations required an in depth understanding of either engineering or agriculture (or both), and there were indeed some knights and masters who served in the Engineering and Agri Corps, as well as the Exploration Corp, as that work could be particularly dangerous or delicate when new cultures and species were encountered.

Ani also asked if all knights did missions like Qui-Gon and he explained there were different jobs for knights. Some were negotiators, some were peacekeepers, some educators, some explorers, some protectors and bodyguards, some planners, some analysts. There were many different roles and jobs one could specialize in, but many were general knights and had a variety of different missions.

Qui-Gon finally got a chance to ask if any knights or masters had approached him yet for apprenticeship. Anakin told him no one had talked to him, but he had seen some talk to his dorm masters or instructors, and it felt like they were talking to about him, but not in a bad way. Qui-Gon reassured him this was normal for his age. Very often knights and masters got more information about a student, feeling them out several times before approaching them directly. The boy reported he had seen this with several of his classmates, even with Jobe. Sometimes the elders came back, but sometimes they didn’t.

“Sometimes they don’t,” Qui-Gon agreed. “Unfortunately, it just doesn’t work out for everyone.”

“But why?” Anakin asked. “It doesn’t seem fair. If the Force is so powerful, why doesn’t every initiate get a master?”

Qui-Gon sighed. “Because even as Jedi, we still have free will and not every initiate matures into a suitable candidate for apprenticeship.

“Then why did the Jedi take them then?” Anakin looked indignant.

“Because the future is not written in stone. People make choices. Things change. Some things happen and some things don’t. We can make very good guesses as to who will be suitable for knighthood and who probably won’t, but we aren’t always right. And sometimes we are spectacularly wrong. And every year there are students right on the cusp, who could be good knights, or maybe aren’t quite good enough, and some years they are apprenticed and some years not, depending on the resources available.”

“That’s so unfair,” Anakin fumed.

“Though hardly unusual,” Qui-Gon shrugged. “If life were fair, no one would be born a slave.”

“And Hutts would be the same size as everyone else.”

“That too.”

“What made you decide who to pick? For your apprentice?”

“I could just tell you ‘the Force,’ but it wouldn’t be the whole truth.” Qui-Gon paused on the path, scouted out an empty bench in a cool pool of shade and led Ani to it.

“With my first padawan, Feemor, I first noticed his bright presence in the Force, not as a potential padawan, but just as a person. He shone like a bright sun. My master was very stern and strict when I was a padawan. He had been trained by Master Yoda, who, if you become a close friend to him, you will learn is _not_ stern nor strict unless he needs to be. Master Dooku was always very composed and dignified and like to do things in the proper way.”

Anakin frowned. “Like Obi-Wan?”

Qui-Gon laughed at the unexpected comparison. “No, Master Dooku was much worse.” Qui-Gon wiped his eyes. “Sometimes I would find him a bit stifling, so I would volunteer in the creche, which is where I met Feemor as a child. He was a brilliant, wild-haired ball of energy, always laughing with delight. He was also strong in the Living Force, so we would enjoy exploring the gardens together like you and I are doing now. Eventually, I was knighted, and he reached the age of twelve. Thinking back on it now, I was too young to take on a padawan, I should have gotten more years of experience under my belt, but I wanted to prove to myself that a master didn’t have to be cold like Dooku to train an excellent knight, so I took him as my padawan learner. We had some ups and downs and rough spots, but Feemor learned to roll with it and we worked together to give him a solid foundation to be the Jedi he is today.”

“Did you love him?” Anakin asked. “Is that allowed?”

“Yes, I did love, him. But we are Jedi, so when the time came, I had to let him go.”

“How did you pick Xanatos?”

Qui-Gon looked off across the garden. “I thought the Force led me to Xanatos. I met him when he was five years old, the same age as when I had met Feemor. In fact, Feemor was still my padawan, so we met him together. He was the son of the leader of his homeworld and Feemor and I were on a mission there, negotiating with his father and the other factions. Xanatos wasn’t a sunny child, like Feemor, but he was very intelligent, very strong in the Force, very articulate. I convinced his father to give him over to the Jedi and we took him back to be evaluated by the Council. The masters agreed he was very strong in the Force but were concerned because was older than most children the Jedi take, and he had certain . . . attitudes he had learned from his family that we could not get him to reconsider. He remembered being wealthy, privileged, a prince among boys, and the more egalitarian structure of the Temple chafed. He wanted to be special for the sake of being special, not merely to be recognized for merit, but have respect conferred on him as his birthright. It was a flaw that could be tempered and accommodated, but in the end, it proved part of his downfall, as well as his loyalty and attachment to his family. He could not see the flaws in his father who over the years had become corrupt. He was not blind to their existence but to their wrongness. His loyalty to family over justice, balance and the law made him turn his back on the Light and embrace the Darkness. But when he was young, it didn’t seem so bad.” Qui-Gon frowned. “I’m sorry. That was much more than what you asked.”

“Is that why the Council thinks I’m dangerous? Because I’m old and have a mom?”

“That’s part of it. And you’re much stronger in the Force than Xanatos was. It’s not that the Council thinks you _will_ turn to the Dark Side, Anakin. It’s that they know any of us could, but you are powerful enough to be particularly dangerous.”

“They don’t want me to hurt a lot of people if I make the wrong choices.”

“Exactly.” Qui-Gon patted his knee. “I know that training you risks that. I just feel that not training you is even more dangerous.”

Anakin was quiet for a moment, thinking this over.

“Did you love him?”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon sighed. “And I became too attached. I let my fondness for Xanatos blind me to the severity and consequences of his flaws. Many of my friends tried to warn me, but I refused to listen or believe them. When he turned against me, it hurt, very badly.”

Anakin wrapped an arm around his back in a half-hug. “Then you picked Obi-Wan?”

“No. I didn’t pick anyone. For a very long time.”

Anakin looked confused. “So, you picked him later.”

“No.” Qui-Gon looked down at the grass beneath their feet. “I chose not to take him as a padawan, several times.” He looked down at Ani. “Yoda tried to convince me, that it was my duty, that he would be good for me, that the Force was drawing us together. I said no. I had already failed with Xanatos. Better for someone else to try or for Obi-Wan to be a farmer than to fail again.”

Anakin looked up at him in confusion. “You _didn’t_ listen to the Force?”

“I told you, Anakin. We still have free will. We still have choices to make.”

“But the Force was telling you to?”

“It probably was. I was refusing to listen and was angry at Master Yoda for pushing the issue. He was trying very hard to find a master for Obi-Wan.” He paused, leaning close. “He does that for many of the initiates.”

“He talked to Jobe a lot before he left.”

“Master Yoda tries his best to find masters for the oldest students, but sometimes it’s not meant to be.”

“What happened then?”

“His time ran short and Master Yoda sent him to the Agri Corp, like your friend. He also sent me on a mission to the same planet on the same ship.” Qui-Gon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. When he put it like that it sounded like the plot of a bad holo-film.

Ani giggled, obviously catching on. “What made you take him then?” Obviously, it _had_ happened.

"The Force knocked me upside the head.” Qui-Gon resettled on the bench. “Xanatos was on the planet, and I was forced to face him. Obi-Wan tried to help me, even though I kept pushing him away. Eventually,” he sighed. “He showed his potential in a way I could not deny, and a training bond formed between us, spontaneously. The Force would not take _no_ for an answer. And I accepted him as my padawan.”

Anakin put his small hand on Qui-Gon’s, almost timid. “Did you love him too? Back then?”

Qui-Gon was silent for a long moment.

“I tried,” he said at last.

“Master Yoda says there is no try,” the boy said cautiously.

“I know. I tried. I didn’t. At least not the way I should have.”

“Why not?” To a boy growing up with a functional parent, it seemed natural that Jedi should love their padawans.

“As I said, Xanatos hurt me very badly. I couldn’t trust that Obi-Wan wouldn’t do the same. So I was cautious, and I kept a clear head, and I began his training. And then he made a bad choice and hurt me like Xan did.”

“He turned to the Dark Side?” Ani squeaked.

“No. He let his emotions control him and influence his decisions, but there was no Darkness in him, no Dark intent, though the potential was there. He turned on _me_. He disagreed with my orders because he thought we should stay and help people who were not ready for help. He didn’t understand, and I didn’t have the patience to explain, and he made a very bad choice. He soon regretted it, but it was too late, the damage was done.”

“Did he get in trouble?”

“Oh, yes,” Qui-Gon grimaced. “The Council could have expelled him from the Order, but they gave him a second chance. They put him on probation, gave him extra chores, put restrictions on him for five years. They lifted it when he made senior padawan.”

“ _Five years_?” To Anakin though sounded like an eternity. “Did you forgive him when his punishment was over?”

“No,” Qui-Gon admitted. “I didn’t. I should have, long before that, but I didn’t. He hurt me like Xan had, and I didn’t want to be hurt again. So, I didn’t forgive him and couldn’t love him. I trained him, I taught him many things, but I didn’t give him everything he needed to pass his trials, because I was afraid to send him to his trials.”

“Because Xanatos became a bad guy before his trials?”

“Probably.”

Anakin frowned, troubled. “But you love me, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ani. I do.”

“And you loved me when I moved to the Temple. When you woke up with the Healers, you saw me, and you loved me.”

“Yes.” If he were honest, he’d loved Anakin on Tattooine; he had started to love his pure heart even before the podrace, but Anakin probably hadn’t noticed before the good drugs took out his shields and let him feel it.

Force only knew what Obi-Wan had felt.

“Did he hurt you again? Was he bad and had to be punished?”

“No. Not like that first time. But some things you can’t forgive.”

“Why didn’t you send him back to the farm?”

“Because deep down, I knew I should have forgiven him, and it wasn’t his fault that I couldn’t.”

Anakin’s brow furrowed. “You were supposed to love him? He wasn’t bad or too weak in the Force to love?”

“He wasn’t bad. But Xan was. And because I wasn’t hard enough on Xan, I was determined not to do the same with Obi-Wan, and I went too far and was too hard on him. I expected too much, and no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough.”

“But you said he wasn’t strong in the Force. How could he do more if he wasn’t strong like Xanatos and Feemor?”

“Being a Jedi is not just being strong in the Force. It’s also the choices you make, and the work you put in. Obi-Wan worked very, very hard and gave up many things Feemor and Xan took for granted trying to be a good Jedi.” He sighed. “He still did many things to the best of his abilities and did do well enough to be a Jedi Knight.”

“But he wasn’t as good as Xan and Feemor?”

Qui-Gon thought back to the dusty box in Obi-Wan’s closet, to the instructor’s reports, to the small pile of letters from Queen Mazicia, despite her never even looking at, much less speaking to Obi-Wan. “There were several things he actually did better than Xan and Feemor.”

“But he still wasn’t good enough?”

“No.”

Anakin looked very sad. “That’s not fair, Master Qui-Gon.”

“I know,” Qui-Gon sighed. “It really wasn’t. That’s part of why the Council won’t let me take any new padawans right now. Because I didn’t treat him fairly and let my emotions lead me to make choices that hurt him.” He looked down at Anakin. “That’s what my therapist makes me talk about. That way I can learn from my mistakes.”

“Healer Milla makes me talk about my mom, and stuff that happened on Tattooine, and bad choices I make that get me in trouble, and weird stuff Master Yoda says.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “I talk about things Master Yoda says too.”

“He talks weird, but . . .” Anakin frowned. “When we talk about it, some of it that I didn’t understand is important. But I don’t always understand it when he says it.”

“A lot of what he says is important,” Qui-Gon agreed. “And you’re not the only Jedi to not understand him right away.” He stretched. “I’ve got a long list of things Yoda has said that I’m still trying to figure out.” It had been an assignment from his healer, which he grudgingly admitted was helpful. “Shall we continue our walk?”

Ani grinned. “Yes.” He hopped off the bench and waited for Qui-Gon to pull himself up to standing, then took his hand and they continued to walk through the rest of the garden and into the next one.

“Which garden is this, Master Qui-Gon?” Anakin looked curiously at the Jedi gathered in small groups off the main path.

“This is the Games Garden.” Qui-Gon pointed up at the transparent roof above them, showing actual sunlight and a patch of sky criss-crossed with aircars. “It’s one of the few gardens in the Temple where you can see the weather.” There were paths, hardy grass and bushes here to separate areas and to stand up to lot of walking, but none of the delicate plants that would be easily damaged.

“It’s like the Recreation Garden in the Initiates Center?”

“Yes, just bigger and scaled for taller people.”

“What games do they play here?”

“Look around and see.” Qui-Gon pointed to some young padawans chasing each other, trying to keep the noise down. “Tag.” He gestured at a row of short tables with Jedi on either side, playing a variety of tabletop games in the sun. “Board games, card games, strategy games.” They walked further to the next square, where a diverse group of Jedi were doing slow, open-hand, non-combat katas in the sun. “Group movement meditations.” In the next square they were knocking a feathered ball over a net with rackets. “Badminton.”

“It’s like playing outside without going outside,” Anakin’s eyes darted about, excited that Jedi really did some things for fun that were actually fun.

“Yes. Coruscant’s air pollution isn’t good for the lungs, but it’s good to get natural light once in a while, so they made one of the terraces into the Games Garden.”

They continued their walk along the path, smiling at the games and the bubbly happiness of the space. They were passing another open space with a group of Jedi of varying ages all sketching a senior padawan holding a pose in an Ataru kata, saber unlit, when Anakin paused. Qui-Gon was about to explain the pose when he heard the rhythmic clicking sound and strong Force pulses that had attracted the boy’s attention.

“What’s that sound, Master Qui-Gon?”

Qui-Gon tracked the clicks to the next square, where a small crowd of spectators had gathered along the perimeter.

“If I’m not mistaken, Ani,” he scrutinized the Force pulses and was fairly certain Yoda was somewhere at the center of the crowd. “I think they are playing Breggle over there.”

Anakin made a face. “The _baby game_?”

Qui-Gon laughed heartily. “Grownup Breggle is very different from Creche Breggle, Ani. Come on, let me show you.”

They made their way over to the group, Qui-Gon tall enough to see over everyone’s heads, and Ani able to stoop to look between their legs. In the center of the court, where the grass was replaced by a smooth patio, a line of colored stones shot past his view, each clicking into its neighbor as it passed one point in space, then continued on its journey around the playing area.

“Whoa,” Ani peeked through more legs as the stones sped toward Master Yoda, who made them turn a sharp corner with a subtle wave of his hand.

“That’s not what we did with the tutor,” Anakin reported.

“I’ll bet,” Qui-Gon leaned down to speak quietly. “There are lots of different games to play with Breggle stones. This game is using the snake technique, where the stones follow each other in a line. In Creche Breggle they would be tied together in a chain, but in Grownup Breggle the players hold them together like that with the Force, which is why we’re all being quiet.”

“Okay,” Anakin whispered. There was a pulse in the Force, and the rhythm of the clicks changed slightly, the stones moving just a hair more slowly. “What was that?”

Qui-Gon looked to the other end of the square, but he could not see the other player sitting across from Yoda with so many spectators in the way. All he could make out were Jedi robes and a tuft of auburn hair sometimes peeking through as they moved.

“The pulse you felt in the Force is when the players pass the stones back and forth between each other. They have to time it just right so one person picks them up and the other lets them go without dropping any. You can sometimes hear the difference in the clicks when one player is moving them versus the other.”

The Force pulsed again and illustrated the point, the clicks subtly speeding up as Yoda again took up the stones.

Anakin watched intently, following the flying line of stones as it dipped up and down, dashed around the perimeter, and formed shapes in the air. Circles, diamonds, corkscrews, always clicking as they moved.

In the current game, Yoda would run the stones through a short series of moves, then the other player would copy him, following the same moves, often more slowly, before passing them back. Every third turn or so, the other player would copy Yoda’s moves, then do a series of their own, and Yoda would repeat them. Qui-Gon suspected the lopsidedness of the game was because Yoda was teaching his companion new techniques while also giving them a chance to explore, and also practicing the pass, which Qui-Gon knew from living with Master Dooku could have quite the learning curve.

From his vantage point, Qui-Gon had a clear view of Master Yoda (whose face gave away that he was absolutely delighted to have found someone to play Breggle with), but his companion remained a mystery. Their age, gender, even their species remained unclear, but Qui-Gon did manage to catch a glimpse of a hand when whoever it was gestured to turn the stones, which hinted toward male humanoid. This person did not feel familiar in the Force, despite the loosening of shields that this type of game required for full cooperation (particularly for the pass), but whoever they were, they were very attuned to the Force, very calm and balanced, but concentrating hard and when they picked up the stones again, they made them dance with a grace and elegance that spoke of strength in the Force and the soul of an artist. Qui-Gon found himself wondering what other activities this grace might extend to. He’d have to look for this one in the salle.

Master Yoda picked up the stones again and sent them high up into the air to signal a change in the game, likely discussed with this companion prior to play as he said nothing now. The tiny master sent the stones around the perimeter several times, looking over the crowd and seeming to ignore the ongoing dance, then turned back to the center. The stones shot into the middle, then were arranged into an abstract, two-dimensional shape, stopping in mid-air and rotating, allowing both Yoda and the other player to see the shape from both sides. Yoda held this position for several moments before getting some sort of signal from his companion (Qui-Gon guessed a nod from the bobbing tuft of hair) at which point the stones resumed their snake formation and were picked back up by the companion who sent them around the perimeter before they stopped in front of a small initiate kneeling across from Qui-Gon, turning in a perfect circle to frame her face. The young girl gasped, startled, and Qui-Gon realized the abstract shape had been a representation of her Force presence, and this new aspect of the game incorporated Force interpretation. Master Yoda nodded his approval and picked up the stones again, sending them around the perimeter before making a new shape, which Qui-Gon quickly identified as a man crouching in front of Anakin, watching the game intently. The other player picked up the stones, sent them around the circle, then did the same frame around the face, correctly identifying the man, who gasped in surprise.

“This is so awesome,” a young, blonde knight murmured under her breath.

Qui-Gon noticed she was recording video of the game. “It’s been a long time since Master Yoda played Breggle in the Games Garden,” he spoke quietly. “I take it you’ve never seen it before?

“Not like this,” she grinned. “I saw him do a different one once that looked like star systems, but not this game. It reminds me of the ribbon dancers on Chandrila.”

“Really?” Qui-Gon peered past her head to watch Yoda wave his hands like an orchestra conductor, the stones following a complex dance. “I didn’t know he still played anywhere other than the retirement home.”

The other player had successfully identified another Force signature, this one Jerrold of all people, which is when Qui-Gon spotted him in the crowd.

“Master Yoda and some of his retired friends gave a demonstration. He was encouraging us young people to learn and Master Drallig also suggested it to help learn Niman.”

“Ah, yes. That would be helpful.” Qui-Gon frankly thought if this young knight was studying Niman, she probably needed all the help she could get.

The lopsided, three-to-one nature of the game continued; this time the companion drew the stones into the center, and with a few slightly awkward movements, tried to sketch an impression of one of the spectators, then carefully rotated the shape. Qui-Gon glanced at it then looked over the crowd, trying to place it. It was a little bit crude in form, so it took him a moment to recognize it as a young Twilek who was standing behind the initiates. Yoda nodded, the stones were carefully rearranged back into a line, then Yoda picked them up and after another run around the perimeter, framed the face of the same Twilek.

Qui-Gon looked down and realized Ani was no longer right beside him. Instead, he had crouched down beside the man who had been in front of him and they were speaking quietly. Qui-Gon leaned down to listen in and felt a rush of air as the stones sped past at eye level, Master Yoda picking out new subjects to portray with the stones.

“Hello, Initiate Skywalker. Enjoying the game?”

“Yeah, it’s really wizard.”

The man scooted over so Anakin could get a better view. “I haven’t seen anyone play Breggle since I was _your_ age.”

“You don’t play, Healer Vygor?”

Qui-Gon wasn’t sure who this healer was, but it was clear Ani knew him and wasn’t uncomfortable with him. He stood up with a silent sigh of relief. Bending over had been pulling on his scars.

“No,” Vygor laughed. “I’m not strong enough in the Force for _that_.”

The stones whizzed by, then framed another face in the crowd. Anakin stared at the person, realizing the stones were only sketching a piece of their Force presence, rather than the whole. They would probably need more stones and colors for that anyway.

Qui-Gon tried again to get a look at the other player. He managed a glimpse of facial hair, so they were almost certainly male. He opened himself to the Force, easily picking out the strong, bright presence, even with Anakin nearby. He was a bit surprised this unknown person wasn’t distracted by Anakin, as many Jedi often found him such, but this one was focused on the game, on the lessons integrated into it, and was very attuned to Master Yoda, which indicated an ordered and disciplined mind. He stepped back to where he had been standing before, next to the blonde knight.

“Do you know the other master Yoda is playing with?” he asked.

She looked up at him, a bit startled. “Um,” she paused, as if the answer was complicated. “Yes, I know him, but he’s a knight, not a master.”

“Really?” The stones flew by in an elegant arc, not currently in Yoda’s hold, before framing another face. He certainly _felt_ like a master. “How old is he?” The young woman was giving him an odd look. “I can’t see him from where I’m standing.”

“He’s only a year or two older than me, and I’m twenty-five,” she replied, before turning back to her recording device.

“He feels older.”

“I _know_. He meditates _all_ the time.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, uncertain if she was pulling his leg or if she was just mistaken. He could get a good sense of the man now; his mind was very open, and it was quite mature and developed. Perhaps not a master yet, but if he was on the younger end he was clearly headed in that direction. He was also quite strong in the Force, even if it was obviously taking much more effort on his part to move the stones than it did for Yoda. He was still learning, and Master Dooku had always told Qui-Gon that Breggle got easier with practice and experience.

“Do they do this often?” Qui-Gon asked. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen _anyone_ playing Breggle in public. It was an old person’s game when he was young, and he’d never gotten the hang of it himself, despite the urging of his master. Moving inanimate rocks did not interest him, even if he did enjoy watching others play. Among his agemates he could only recall Cin playing it outside the creche, but that was hardly surprising.

“Only recently.”

Qui-Gon turned to see another childhood friend, a Zabrack knight named Urdlea. Qui-Gon clasped her hand in greeting, not having seen her in years.

“Urdlea, how wonderful to see you.”

A small smile was playing at her lips. “It’s good to see you too, Qui-Gon Jinn.”

The blonde woman froze at the mention of his name, giving him a sideways glance from the corner of her eye. Apparently, his reputation still preceded him, even after being out of the field for two years.

He turned back to the game. “Only recently you say?”

The blonde woman slid past them to get a better vantage point to record the game.

“Yes. It’s clear they’ve been practicing together for a while, but the grandmaster brought his young friend here last week when they started practicing the pass. You know how stones can shoot out unexpectedly when you’re learning to do that.”

He certainly did. Urdlea had been one of the friends Qui-Gon complained to whenever his master made yet another valiant attempt to teach him Breggle. When Master Dooku had started trying to teach him to pass, things frequently ended up broken and eventually it convinced him to stop the lessons.

“Well he seems to have mastered it. I know I never could.”

“You were never completely comfortable with Master Dooku. You need to be for it to work.”

Qui-Gon looked at Urdlea in surprise. “I don’t remember you playing Breggle.”

“I didn’t. I don’t.” She shrugged. “I had a crush on Cin way back in the day and got him to teach me the basics used in Niman. He also taught me the pass, which is really useful in the field.” She sighed as they both turned back to the game. “He was a good kisser.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Can’t say I tried that myself.”

The stones were making another shape which Qui-Gon easily picked out as an older knight across the square, but it had apparently stumped Yoda’s companion as it continued to rotate in the center. Qui-Gon could sense confusion on his part, but it came with a healthy measure of acceptance rather than frustration.

“He can’t see that one?” Qui-Gon wondered aloud. There was a bit of murmuring among the crowd, so clearly, he wasn’t the only one surprised. Yoda paused the rotation, changed the shape slightly, emphasizing the stronger features and eliminating the weaker details before starting the rotation again. His companion scanned the crowd carefully before there was a flash of recognition. Master Yoda nodded, a pleased smile on his face as the snake formed again, his companion took up the stones and correctly identified the knight.

“Yoda was making Force portraits with him the other day, but they weren’t snaking then. He seems to lean more toward the U, and has trouble seeing the L.”

That explained why Yoda might need to emphasize the more obvious features.

It was the companion’s turn to sketch a Force presence portrait. The stones flew around the perimeter twice before he pulled them to the center and began awkwardly forming the shape of another spectator. Qui-Gon frowned at it, not able to immediately place it.

“Hmm,” Urdlea was also scrutinizing the shape. “Good eye,” she said after a moment. “Very subtle detail.”

“Really?” Qui-Gon looked from the stones to the spectators. “I don’t see it.”

Urdlea laughed a bit louder than she intended. “You wouldn’t, Jinn. Like I said, he leans toward the U. You know, the side of the Force you ignore.”

“I don’t ignore the Force, Urdlea.”

This made her laugh harder, though she kept it quiet. “You absolutely do, though I believe you when you say you can’t see it.”

Yoda had nodded, the shape was awkwardly moved back into a snake before the grandmaster took them back up, sent them around the perimeter, and then framed the face of the blonde knight Qui-Gon had been speaking with. She looked up, startled, then laughed, adjusting the recorder to get the full ring of stones before they sped off into the center again, this time rising high in the air again to signal another change in play. The Force lesson was over, and it was quickly apparent that the third round was going to be freestyle. Yoda sent the stones running above the playing surface in an elaborate dance, twisting and turning like a sea serpent or the ribbon dancers the knight had mentioned, forming spirals, tracing shapes and taking sharp turns that would stall out a speeder. After a few moments the stones straightened out and he passed them to his companion, who did not copy the complex dance, but did attempt some elements of it, incorporating it into his own, simpler presentation, before passing them back.

The spectators followed the game intently. There were no points, no winners or losers, it was clearly all for fun and to incorporate learning. Qui-Gon was gratified to see that Anakin was obviously fascinated. Perhaps this could encourage the boy to be more diligent in his basic studies if he could see what they might lead to. He knew Ani was still uncomfortable around Master Yoda (hell, _he_ wasn’t exactly at ease with him right now), but maybe his young friend would be willing to show the boy some techniques that Ani would not be willing to learn with the other initiates. Creche Breggle was a ‘baby game,’ but it was the foundation of so much more, and Anakin was so strong in the Force he could become quite skilled if he were properly encouraged.

The two players continued to pass the stones back and forth, but even Qui-Gon could sense the young companion was getting tired. His technique was still graceful (surprisingly so, given his relative inexperience), and the clicks had slowed down just a hair more, but the forms were interesting to watch, not mere repetitions of the master’s technique, but with clear efforts to find new combinations and movements. They continued through several more passes before it finally came to an end. The younger companion was trying to pick up the stones one more time, but missed one, the third or fourth stone in the line dropping to the patio, leaving a gap in the clicks, and a loud smack as it hit the cement, bouncing.

The young man let out an audible huff at this mistake, and Qui-Gon could sense him releasing his disappointment and radiating apology as he clumsily drew the stones into a mass and carefully set them down.

Master Yoda was clearly _not_ disappointed in his performance, and was almost shining with approval, no doubt thrilled at how long his student had managed to keep up.

The spectators broke out into applause, catching the young man by surprise. Qui-Gon assumed he could only see the first two rows of the audience from his position sitting on the grass. Qui-Gon still (annoyingly) could not get a good look at him either, but he was still so open and attuned that his emotions were on display. Qui-Gon could just make out a hint of motion, but it was clear in the Force that he was acknowledging and paying respect to the master, and Yoda accepted the accolades with his usual quiet graciousness. After a moment, Yoda saluted his companion, gesturing toward the young man as the applause continued, before bowing his head. Qui-Gon assumed the young man did the same to close the game, then the crowd began to disperse. Yoda collected the stones into a cloth pouch, while the younger man slowly got to his feet, no doubt exhausted from the strenuous game. He was immediately swarmed by a good proportion of the spectators, much to Master Yoda’s amusement.

Qui-Gon _still_ could not get a good look at him, though his Force presence was discernible in the crowd, and he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Anakin on the other hand . . .

“Ani?” he called quietly, and he felt the boy suddenly flash in the Force, clearly feeling the summons. He spotted him immediately, still next to the healer, the both of them getting to their feet, before the boy raced up to him.

“Master Qui-Gon, that was so amazing!”

“Yes, it was. I haven’t seen a game like that since I was a padawan.”

“They moved _so many_ , and they went fast and flew around like starfighters.”

Qui-Gon laughed. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I take it that was definitely not a baby game then?”

“No, that was _really_ cool. And they made pictures of the Force.”

“Yes, they did. Master Yoda used to play that game with my master and Master Silvanus. They could make very detailed Force portraits, but they had much more experience than the young man playing here today.”

Anakin gave him an odd look, but before he could say more another pair of initiates walked by, chattering about how that was so much more awesome than the Breggle they knew how to play and bemoaning that they weren’t strong enough to do that. Anakin’s eyes lit up. He never had any worries about not being strong enough in the Force.

“Can you teach me how to do that, Master Qui-Gon?”

Qui-Gon forced himself not to blush. “Um, to be honest Anakin, I can’t. My master tried to teach me to play several times, but I was never able to master anything but the most basic moves. But if you’re interested, maybe Master Yoda or his friend would be able to help you or recommend a teacher.”

Anakin looked stunned. “You really can’t? You aren’t kidding?”

Qui-Gon laughed. It wasn’t something to be embarrassed about. And it would be healthy if Anakin shared a little of his hero worship with other Jedi and learned that despite returning from the death’s door, there were still things he couldn’t do.

“I have learned many things as a Jedi, but Breggle wasn’t one of them.”

“In fact, he used to complain about it. With great enthusiasm.”

Qui-Gon looked up to see Knight Jerrold had come around the square to talk with him. “That was quite the show.”

“Yeah,” Ani agreed, grinning. “They drew you in the Force.”

Marcus laughed, heartily. “Tell me, Ani. Do I really look like that in the Force? I can’t see myself.”

Anakin giggled. “Partly. Master Yoda didn’t draw everything, but it was definitely _you_.”

Marcus laughed again, fist-bumped Ani, and grinned at Qui-Gon. “You actually looked impressed.”

“Why wouldn’t I be impressed?”

Marcus gave him a confused look similar to Anakin’s. “You usually aren’t.”

Urdlea snickered beside him. “He was this time. In fact, he mistook Master Yoda’s pupil for a master.” She glanced at the thinning crowd around the young man, but he was still surrounded.

Jerrold raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Did you?”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I was erring on the side of polite. And most Breggle players are older. I couldn’t see him from where I was standing.”

Anakin had a hand over his mouth, giggling. Clearly, he had gotten a better view.

“Do you know how to play?” Anakin asked Marcus.

Urdlea cracked up.

“Only a little. I took a workshop with my padawan, back before she was knighted, and they taught us the basics as a bond-building exercise. A few of us in the class got the pass to work, but only with one ball, not a string of stones, but we messed up so many times we ended up laughing, so overall it was a good class.”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I guess I missed that one.”

Urdlea rolled her eyes.

The crowd was starting to thin. The young man could be picked out now, facing away from them, talking to the blonde knight and the healer Ani had been sitting with. He wasn’t very tall, but he looked fit and as the clouds above parted to bathe the room in sunlight, the auburn highlights in his hair seemed to glow. He turned his head slightly, revealing a short, neat beard on his chin, a good complexion and light eyes. Qui-Gon felt a stir of desire and Force, it had been a long time since _that_ had happened.

The young man bent down to pick up his dark knight’s robes from the grass, shaking out the wrinkles before he put it on, then began the process of putting his mental shields to rights. He was still standing with his back to them, his powerful mind almost tangible as he adjusted both his robe and defenses, and for a moment, Qui-Gon remembered being on an alien world and catching sight of a majestic bird of prey settling on a rocky crag and shaking out it’s beautiful wings, confident in it’s power, a perfectly honed creature, for all that it had lacked sentience. The stirring grew to outright arousal. Clearly this young man needed some tutoring in the Living Force. Perhaps he could help.

The knight had reasserted his shielding and safeguards to protect his mind and Qui-Gon felt a noticeable pang of disappointment. It was like a cloud rolling across the sun, the world growing noticeably dimmer, a bit of joy getting locked away as equilibrium replaced mild euphoria and the serious, disciplined demeanor required for this level of control came back into focus.

Qui-Gon had quite a few ideas about how to open those barriers back up and draw that light back out to play. His healers had finally, _finally_ , cleared him for strenuous activity, and while he knew Tahl would want to enjoy that as soon as she returned to Coruscant, he began to wonder if she would be interested in a third. Or perhaps he’d just have a little fun on his own. Assuming he could get this bright young man interested. He had been off his game for his long time, and even though he clearly still had a reputation among the young knights, he knew he was getting too old for a blatant come on.

And, well, Anakin was here. He’d best go with a softer approach.

He looked down at Ani. “Did you want to speak with him?” he asked as the healer was leaning close to speak to the young man, obviously very familiar with him. The blonde knight looked very serious, glancing over his shoulder, eyes widening as she spied them. Qui-Gon frowned. He was used to being somewhat intimidating, but this reaction seemed unwarranted in a knight.

“Yes,” Ani grinned, eagerly taking Qui-Gon’s hand, so they could approach together.

Marcus looked as if he wanted to say something but Urdlea put a hand on his arm. He looked at her, concerned, but she shook her head and he subsided.

The healer drew back and to Qui-Gon’s surprise he met his eyes as he passed, the look stern, almost a warning. For a moment he wondered if he was the young man’s boyfriend and had a possessive streak. Still, Qui-Gon didn’t think he had made his intentions obvious yet. Perhaps many in the crowd had made offers. Regardless, the look was fleeting, and he gave Anakin a reassuring nod.

“How do you know that man?” he asked the boy quietly.

“He’s the therapist boss,” Ani replied. “He talked to me a lot and then sent me to Healer Milla because he thought we would be a good fit. He says ‘hi’ if I see him at the therapist office.”

“Ah.” He supposed the man probably knew more about Anakin’s background than most, but the reaction still seemed unwarranted. The blonde knight kept giving him wary glances as she fiddled with the recording device, reviewing the playback. Qui-Gon stopped just behind the young man, cleared his throat and put a pleasant smile on his face, but opened his shields slightly, giving off a hint of interest. He kept his voice low, hoping his tone would also make the message clear, in the event his target’s weaker grasp of the Living Force made it less obvious. “Excuse me, Sir Knight. We just wanted to thank you for the excellent show of skill. I haven’t seen Breggle like that in years and I would love to hear how you gained such fine control of the Force.”

The young man stilled immediately at the sound of his voice, his already impressive shields tightening further, leaving the flat, blank, emotionless slate most often used when about to enter dangerous negotiations, leaving no hint of inner thoughts or feelings. It was a baffling reaction, shockingly defensive. Perhaps he had startled the young man?

The blonde knight was staring at him, her face gone pale. Slowly, the young man turned to face him, stance wary and as he finally saw this shining creature, he felt his breath catch and a warmth pool in his belly. This young man was beautiful, his face and well-honed body more than a match for his bright presence in the Force. He looked Qui-Gon in the eye, unflinching, and the master stared back at those fascinating eyes, trying to trace that strange familiarity that was teasing at his brain, even as he resisted the urge to make his interest more obvious. There was no need to spook him, though even the soft approach had put him on his guard. The moment stretched too far, and the young man raised an eyebrow at him, as if incredulous that _he_ , Qui-Gon Jinn, would dare to speak with him, much less flirt with him. Part of him was offended by this unjustified hostility, while another part of his brain strained to solve the mystery, to identify where he had seen this lovely creature before.

And then Anakin broke the spell, crashing through the moment with unbridled enthusiasm.

“That was really, really amazing!”

The young man started, glancing down at his young fan, then giving Qui-Gon another wary look, before he knelt down to face Ani closer to eye level, though the boy had reached a height where the knight had to look up at him. Qui-Gon forced himself not to think about what else the young man could do kneeling on the ground like that.

The young man nodded at Anakin and moved to speak, but the young initiate started, as if remembering something.

“And I have to tell you. Mr. Dex wants you to visit and Master Qui-Gon said to tell you it’s okay.”

Qui-Gon felt his hard-earned strength suddenly leave him in a rush as the missing piece clicked into place, and for all that the beautiful man before him didn’t change, there was no façade to break or illusion to shatter, so much as he was forced to recognize what his mind had denied.

“Thank you, Anakin.” He gave Qui-Gon another look and this time it was starting to shade into disgust. He turned back to the boy and now his expression was cautious but cordial. “I will have to visit him soon.”

“How did you learn to move so many at once?” Anakin almost bounced in place, still very excited about the game. “I dropped mine when I grabbed the third one.”

Obi-Wan gave him a quiet smile and Qui-Gon fought down the completely inappropriate arousal still trying to run through his body. Where had his Force-weak, stubborn, immature whelp of a padawan gone? When had he grown into _this_?

“Almost everyone does that the first time. I had to practice the basics, and when I learned those skills on my own, Master Yoda started to teach me how to make more stones dance at once. There was a lot of practice time, and I’m still learning new skills, but you can still play the simpler games with only a few moves. If you’re patient and put in the practice and learn to stay calm and not get frustrated, it becomes easier the more you learn.”

Anakin turned to peek at Master Yoda who was giving Qui-Gon an unimpressed look. “I don’t think I’m ready to learn from Master Yoda.”

Obi-Wan’s smile did not waver. “Master Yoda is a very good teacher, but the Creche Masters or the Initiate Masters should be able to teach you the basics and the easier games. When you get confident with that, I’m sure we can find you a good teacher for the harder skills.”

“You can’t teach me?”

Obi-Wan did not hide his surprise. “I’m still learning myself,” he admitted. “But I could try to show you a little when I’m in the Temple. You would probably learn faster with an instructor who is in the Temple more often.”

Master Yoda had stepped closer, still carrying the bag of stones. “Trying to get more young people playing we are. Too many players old are getting. Trying to pass down skills and traditions we are.” He looked Anakin over carefully. “If want to learn you do, find teachers we will.” He looked up at Qui-Gon. “Take you to visit retired Jedi Master Jinn should. Still play old Jedi do.”

Ani gave him a bright smile. “Can we do that, Master Qui-Gon?”

Qui-Gon managed to sound less rattled than he felt. “I think we can manage it. Assuming you’re willing to learn a _baby game_ first.”

Anakin laughed and turned back to Obi-Wan. “That was _so_ much cooler than the baby games.”

Master Yoda smiled at him. “Creche Breggle the place to start is. Learn to pick up stones, together hold, apart move. Simple shapes to make.” He pulled three stones out of the bag and held them out in his palm. They floated up to Anakin’s eye level, then began spinning in a tight circle, then straightened into a line, then the middle stone moved back and forth, clicking against the stones on either side. “Simple skills learned first are then into bigger skills build. Time takes it does. Practice takes it does. But worth effort it can be.” The stones settled back into Yoda’s hand and he put them back into the bag. “More fun with friends to learn it is. If interested you are, find you good teachers we can.”

“Thank you, Master Yoda.” Anakin wondered if the tiny master knew he was still afraid of him. He also wondered why Obi-Wan wasn’t.

Yoda gave Qui-Gon a look Ani couldn’t read, but Qui-Gon most definitely got the message to back off. Qui-Gon looked back at Obi-Wan and suddenly realized his flirtation had _not_ gone unnoticed, and it was unwelcome here.

 _Very unwelcome_.

The blonde knight was very closed off now, clearly waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t tell if she was a lover or just a friend, but she apparently knew enough of their history to keep her distance.

“Well, that was,” he was staring at Obi-Wan again, flabbergasted and stunned at the results of this metamorphosis. Was this the man Yoda had always seen in the boy that he could not? It seemed impossible.

“That _was_ amazing.” He looked back down at Yoda, suddenly suspicious. “I hope we can see you play again sometime.” He tugged lightly on Anakin’s hand. “Come along, Anakin. I best get you back before kitchen duty.”

The boy made a face but did not actually protest. “Okay. Thank you for showing us your game.” He bowed politely this time, since he didn’t have to and everyone was being nice, then followed Master Qui-Go out of the garden.

Yoda reached out to lay his hand on Obi-Wan’s knee. “Handled that well you did.”

Obi-Wan shuddered, releasing the tension now that Qui-Gon had left. “Thank you, Master.” He held out an arm and let Yoda climb up on his shoulders. “That was . . . weird.”

“Recognize you he did not.” Yoda held on to his robe as the knight carefully stood up. Kressa marveled that Obi-Wan was so comfortable with the grandmaster that carrying him around was apparently normal for him.

“That’s what Healer Vygor said. He seemed to be . . .” Obi-Wan couldn’t quite make himself say it out loud. “Did I imagine that?”

“Come on to you he did,” Yoda confirmed. The little master was clearly pissed about it, insulted on Obi-Wan’s behalf.

“Yeah,” Kressa agreed. “You did _not_ imagine that.”

Obi-Wan was silent for several moments as they began to walk down the path. “I knew the beard made me look weird.”

Yoda patted his shoulder. “Different it is. Weird not.”

“I should shave it off.”

Yoda looked disappointed.

“No you shouldn’t,” Kressa protested. “It’s very becoming.”

“Agree I do.” Yoda tugged gently on his hair. “Very nice it is. Keep it or keep it not. Either way, better offers you will get.”

Obi-Wan shuddered again, but minutely. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

Kressa laughed as they left the garden.

Jerrold and Urdlea watched them go, feeling the turbulent Force currrents slowly settle. The moment had been charged to say the least.

“He finally sees it,” Urdlea said at last.

Marcus frowned. “That seemed unnecessarily brutal.”

She gave him a look. “Subtle has been lost on him for _years_.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Tahl said they don’t even talk anymore.”

“Should we go find him?” Urdlea asked.

“Which one?” he replied, not sure where their greater loyalty should be.

“I think Yoda is taking care of the kid.”

“He’s not a kid, Urdlea. Not for a while now.” He sighed. “Qui-Gon and I are meeting at Slo Min’s tonight. Let him cool off now. We can help him get past it then.”

“Definitely no longer a kid.”

* * *

When Master Yoda reached his quarters several hours later, he could immediately sense turmoil leaking from the parlor next to his apartment where distraught Jedi came to him for counsel. He was not surprised as to the source. With a sigh, he went into his own rooms, washed up, then entered the parlor through the interior door.

The lights were low, and the setting sun glowed red through the shutters. Qui-Gon Jinn sat on a mat in the lotus position, waiting for him. Yoda dragged a thick pillow up onto his favorite ottoman so they could speak eye to eye without Qui-Gon having to stoop, then sat down and waited. It didn’t take long. Qui-Gon had released some of his emotions while he was waiting but clearly not his impatience.

“That was impossible.”

Yoda said nothing.

“He shouldn’t be able to do that.”

“Why?” Yoda did not react to the frustration and confusion.

“You _know_ why.”

“Always knew I did that do it he could. Why doubt him do you?”

 _Did he have to spell it out_?

“We both know he doesn’t have the talent to do that. You might have fooled him and everyone else at that little show of yours, but you didn’t fool me.”

Yoda did not rise to the accusation. “Fool you I do not have to. Fool yourself you do without my help.”

Qui-Gon looked away. “It’s impossible, Master.”

“Hmm,” Yoda scoffed. “Clearly possible it is.”

“He doesn’t have the ability, Master. His midi-chlorian counts are—”

“Lower than yours.”

“Yes.” That hit the nail on the head.

“So nothing he can do, if do it you cannot?”

That certainly made him sound pompous.

“That’s higher-level Force use. That should be completely beyond his abilities. Creche Breggle is one thing. That was . . .”

“Something you cannot do,” Yoda sighed. “Taught you this lesson already I did, Qui-Gon Jinn. Numbers lie.”

Qui-Gon’s look clearly stated he thought little green Jedi Masters lied more.

“I know he puts the work and effort in, Master Yoda. I’ve never faulted his perseverance. But this is beyond his abilities and making him think he can do it could put him in danger.”

“ _Make_ him think?” Yoda scoffed. “ _Make him_ do nothing I did. Very hard he worked. Much practice he put in. Tried the pass many times he did. Very hard it was for him to open up, to trust, but do it for him? No. Do just fine on his own he did.” He leaned forward. “Seen many games you have. Feel in the Force you can who carrying the stones is.”

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. “Master Yoda, I know you are fond of him, but his midi-chlorian count was low enough to leave him with his family. There isn’t enough practice, meditation and dedication in the galaxy to make that show possible.”

“Really? A midi-chlorian expert you are now?” Yoda’s tone was calm, but Qui-Gon could tell he was not pleased with him. “Tell me you will. How many midi-chlorians needed are for Jedi to be? For a lightsaber to build? To trick minds with the Force? To levitate stones?”

“There isn’t a specific number, Master.”

“How many for saber tournament to win? How many for treaty to negotiate? How many for Sith to kill?”

Perhaps he _should_ have made slightly less of a big deal out of Anakin’s counts, all things considered.

“Numbers don’t lie _that_ much, Master.”

“Hmm,” Yoda stretched on his cushion. “Many numbers you have. Which number correct is?”

“Many numbers?”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Know I do. Looked at his records you did. Saw the counts you did. Saw the counts you did when a bad fever he had. Many numbers had. Which numbers speak the truth? Which numbers lie?”

“He was sick. The numbers when he was healthy should be more accurate.”

“If the sick numbers correct were, surprised you would be?”

“No.” He bit back a laugh. If Obi-Wan’s counts when he had been sick were accurate, he would have taken him to Master Dooku to learn Breggle himself. He would have consulted masters strong in the Unifying Force to fully develop his connection to both sides of the Force. If those numbers had been accurate, he would be as strong as Xanatos.

He would have treated him like Anakin. Well, more like Anakin.

Yoda leaned forward, pinning him with his gaze. “If those correct were, mistake him for master you would?”

Qui-Gon flinched. He knew Yoda could fake a game of Breggle, could play two parts. Hell, he had _seen_ Master Silvanus actually do it once when they had to pass a witness under their protection off as a Jedi. The bounty hunter on their tail was mildly Force sensitive and still the wily old goat had pulled it off. But faking a Force presence, especially when fully open like that, was not a trivial parlor trick. Obi-Wan’s presence was not merely matured, it was unrecognizable. Powerful, controlled, versatile. Developed and developing. And so much brighter than it should have been.

 _Had this potential always been there_?

He looked up to meet Yoda’s gaze.

“Look deeper you must, Qui-Gon Jinn. The answers always there have been. Told you many times I have. Waste his potential I will not.”

Yoda got up and walked up to him. Qui-Gon expected the tiny master to give him an encouraging pat, but instead he climbed right up on his crossed legs so they could look each other in the eye.

“Keep your lusts to yourself you will. Plenty of time you had love to show him. Treat him like plaything now that safely knighted he is you will not. Hurt him enough already you have.”

Qui-Gon swallowed, remembering that though Master Yoda was known for his kindness and wisdom, it was never a good idea to cross him, and yes, he could hurt you if he so chose.

“Yes, Master Yoda.”

Yoda backed off, then walked toward the door to his main apartment. “Let you meditate I will.” He paused. “Salon next week I have. Come Obi-Wan may. Join us you can if polite you can be.” He left.

Qui-Gon stared at the closed door for a long time before he slipped into meditation.

* * *

Qui-Gon walked through the door of Slo Min’s Tavern, scowling slightly and fifteen minutes late. The meeting with Yoda had only left him with more questions, and he was still tempted to let his embarrassment build into anger. The whole experience was much too fresh to simply retreat into denial.

The tavern was not terribly crowded, and after a moment he spotted Jerrold sitting at a booth with a dark ale and a plate of spiced protein balls. Qui-Gon waved half-heartedly and joined him, trying not to grunt in relief when he was finally able to sit down and get off his feet. He should probably step up his exercise program. He should have been further along in his recovery by now.

A server came over to take his order, and Qui-Gon leaned back into the booth and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Jerrold was carefully looking at him, arms crossed on the tabletop. Qui-Gon put his elbows on the table and covered his face in his hands.

“Rough day?” Jerrold slid the food to the middle of the table.

Qui-Gon picked one up by the toothpick, swirled it in the sauce, and ate it before answering. “Yes. Thank you.” He stared at the wall. “I take it you recognized him during the game?”

“I did.” Jerrold took a ball himself. “But I had already met up with him at the saber clinics two days ago. Got my ass handed to me.”

Qui-Gon have him a disbelieving look.

Jerrold shrugged. “He was your padawan, Quigs. That was only a matter of time. We’re getting old. He’s on the rise, and he’s put in the training. And he’s been working with Cin. It’s not a hobby for him like the Temple-bound knights.”

“I never trained him for it to be a hobby.”

“Exactly. So don’t act so surprised that he’s very good at it now.” He shrugged. “I won the next match, but I had to seriously step up my game.”

Qui-Gon tried not to think how long it had been since he had used his own lightsaber for anything other than accessorizing. His physical therapist was putting him on a cardio routine this week that he could continue on his fact-finding mission and there was a plan to meet with Cin and Master Tock to get him back in the salle and determine how best to work with his new limitations. Frankly he wanted to shove his ‘new limitations’ up Cin’s ass, but if this was the path to full functionality, he would take it.

“So should we talk about the rancor in the room, or should I just buy the next round and say you were only a little bit of a jerk?”

Qui-Gon sighed, taking another protein ball. “I can’t have a second round,” he grumbled. “I’m not supposed to stress my liver.”

“Rancor it is then.”

Qui-Gon was tempted to make a rude gesture but opted to just give Marcus a sour look. The man was sharing his protein balls after all. “You really didn’t find it surprising?” Qui-Gon sure had.

“Which part? That he beat me in the salle, that he can play Breggle, or that you finally realize he’s a very competent adult who no longer cares about earning your approval?”

Trust Marcus to not dance around the rancor but jump right on top of it.

“All of it?”

“Heh,” Marcus shook his head. “Beating me in the salle, no. I wasn’t expecting him to have changed styles and knock me flat on my ass, but I expected I’d lose at some point. But I’m used to it. Frellia has taken me down a few times since she was knighted. I’m guessing you don’t see Feemor often enough to have enjoyed the humiliation of being trounced by your former padawan.”

 _Hmm_. “No.”

The server arrived with Qui-Gon’s ale and steamed vegetables to balance on his hearty lunch.

“And when Feemor was Obi-Wan’s age, you were still in your prime and hadn’t been injured. The glory days are behind us, my friend.” He sipped at his ale. “Still, Obi-Wan would have probably given younger you a run for your credits. You’re going to need some serious P.T. to challenge him.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “It’s only been two years,” he scoffed.

“How are you against Form III?” Marcus popped a protein ball into his mouth.

Qui-Gon started to laugh. “Soresu is for Jedi too timid to,” he paused, replaying Marcus’s previous comments. “Kriff, why the Sith is he studying Form III?”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“Sith, apparently,” Marcus shrugged as he eyes Qui-Gon’s vegetables. “He’s building his defensive skills.”

Qui-Gon slid the plate to the center of the table. “Why, so he can _annoy_ his opponents before they kill him?”

Marcus snorted, then pulled on his collar to show the faint outline of a healing burn on his shoulder. “He hasn’t forgotten offense. He knows how to take an opening.”

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows. Marcus Jerrold was not a pushover. Clearly Obi-Wan was stepping up to the challenges of knighthood.

“And the Breggle game?”

Marcus shrugged. “I was kind of surprised _anyone_ was playing Breggle, but Tahl told me Obi-Wan got Master Yoda in the divorce, so I’m not surprised they are socializing and doing dorky Force things together. Obi-Wan has always been into Jedi history and traditions.”

“The _divorce_?”

Marcus raised his hands. “That’s what Tahl called it. From what I heard that’s a fairly accurate term.”

“He was my padawan. We weren’t in a romantic relationship, much less married.”

“Yeah, Quigs, I noticed.” He took a crunchy tuber off the vegetable plate and took a bite. “In case you don’t hang out with enough civilians, the romance dying is a major cause of divorce.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “What did you notice?”

Marcus took a deep breath, then let it out. “That you chased off anyone who looked at him twice but were too busy finding your own lovers and strays to meet any of his needs.”

Qui-Gon opted to listen instead of speak.

“That you never saw him as an adult, unless it was to give him more responsibilities. That you only had eyes for his shortcomings and not his growth or accomplishments. I’ve known you for a long, long time Qui-Gon. I watched him push himself harder and farther than Xan or Feemor did, only to be told he was inadequate. It’s not surprising to me that the romance died, if you even had any to begin with.”

“We didn’t,” Qui-Gon admitted. After a moment he looked across the table.

Marcus only looked sad. “It wasn’t fair to isolate him if you weren’t going to love him. Tahl called it a divorce because you rather effectively removed him from your life and tried to replace him with a younger model.”

Qui-Gon took a large gulp of his ale, the taste bitter on his tongue. “I thought I was following the will of the Force.”

“That’s kind of a cold consolation, Quigs,” Marcus answered softly. He poked at the vegetables again. “As for the Breggle, I was impressed, but not terribly shocked. I’ve seen him use telekinesis before. It’s good to see him truly develop it.”

Qui-Gon sighed and picked up the cocktail napkin under his glass, then pulled a small ink pen from his belt, wrote a number on it, then slid it across the table. Marcus raised an eyebrow, picked it up, and read it.

“It this is all you’re offering I’m not doing whatever it is.” He tossed it back. Qui-Gon snatched it back and tucked it into his belt with the pen as if it were secure intel.  
  
“That’s his count.”

“Huh?” Marcus had not followed the non-sequitur.

Qui-Gon lowered his voice. “That’s Obi-Wan’s midi-chlorian count.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “In his blood?”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “No, Marcus, in his asshole. Of course in his blood.” Qui-Gon stole the last protein ball. “So yes, I was rather surprised to see him supposedly playing Breggle.”

Marcus looked at Qui-Gon suspiciously, noting his word choice. “What was his count when he was playing Breggle? Or his intramuscular count?”

Qui-Gon looked at him blankly.

Marcus glanced toward Qui-Gon’s belt, remembering the number. “Regardless, that’s a hell of a swing.”

Qui-Gon realized he had no idea what Marcus was talking about, but he could feel in the Force that there was a distinct possibility his old friend might have the key piece of information he was missing. “What?”

Marcus gave him an odd look. “He has a very large swing. I’ve sparred with him, Qui-Gon. And been burned. If that’s his resting blood count, it must fluctuate quite a lot when he’s actively using the Force.”

Qui-Gon’s voice got very quiet. “I’m afraid I’m not following you, my friend.” He kept his presence humble, but serious. This was something he needed to know.

Marcus’s expression clearly showed he had assumed this was something Qui-Gon was already familiar with. “The Alderaani Paradox?”

Qui-Gon waited for him to elaborate.

“Fluctuating amplitudes in Force presence?”

Qui-Gon kept waiting.

“Jedi with low blood midi-chlorian counts at rest, but with higher counts in other tissues?”

Qui-Gon started to look very puzzled.

“Blood counts for some Alderaani Jedi are not consistent with their inherent Force abilities?”

Qui-Gon had never heard of this before. “Is this like that Correllian thing?”

“Sort of?” Marcus shrugged. “I’m not a biologist. The Correlian mutation pushes people toward the U. That’s why there’s so many good gamblers who are otherwise not terribly Force sensitive from Correllia and descendant populations. The Alderaani Paradox is from a different gene entirely from what I heard. Lowers midi-chlorian counts in the blood, gives people a quieter resting Force presence when they aren’t actively using the Force.”

“Huh,” Qui-Gon stared at the vegetables, thinking. “But what does that have to do with Obi-Wan? He’s not even Alderaani.”

Marcus stared at him, stunned. “Quigs? How long were you clinically dead before they brought you back?”

Qui-Gon looked offended. “Forgive me, I don’t actually remember.” He had no idea _why_ Marcus was confused, much less cared about Obi-Wan’s heritage. “Obi-Wan was born on a planet in a minor mid-rim system.”

“Stewjon.”

That sounded right. “That’s not even close to Alderaan.”

Marcus’s face was still rather incredulous. “It actually was a colony of Alderaan before it became self-sufficient.” He gave Qui-Gon a suspicious look. “Have you ever read Obi-Wan’s deep file?”

Qui-Gon frowned. “No.” He hadn’t looked for one, to be honest. Feemor hadn’t had one; there had been nothing unusual about him coming to the Temple. He had written most of Xan’s deep file himself, detailing his parentage and his unusual circumstances for being accepted as an initiate. (He assumed someone had also done the same for Anakin). In the end it hadn’t mattered; Xan remembered his family and spoke quite openly about them, so it wasn’t a secret, and Qui-Gon had been his master anyway,

When Yoda started pushing him to take a padawan, he had refused, and had no reason to look into deep files, which were usually only available to Jedi seriously considering taking an initiate as a padawan, and later to the padawan themselves after they reached sixteen or so (or unless their masters shared said files earlier). He had accepted Obi-Wan as his padawan on Bandomeer. He couldn’t have asked for his deep file then, even if he had wanted to.

“I didn’t realize he had one,” he frowned. “I take it you’ve read it?”

“Yes. Back when I was working in the Jedi Embassy on Alderaan and when you were first assigned the Aldera Biennial with me. The Council briefed me on it. _In detail_.”

“Why?” Qui-Gon asked. They hadn’t briefed him.

Marcus lowered his head onto his hand, as if this whole conversation just kept becoming a bigger and bigger train wreck. “Qui-Gon, you _do_ remember The Rules, right?”

“Yes.” Some of the Elder Houses could be shockingly conservative, despite the overall progressive political bent of the planet.

“Obi-Wan is the reason for The Rules.” When Qui-Gon didn’t answer, he plowed on. “Agri Corp father. No-longer-a-proper-virgin Alderaani mother. Illegitimate as _hell_. Born in a home for wealthy Alderaani unwed mothers on Stewjon.”

Qui-Gon felt his eyebrows rise. “How wealthy?”

Marcus gave him a long-suffering look. “Little Bail and Rouge were _not_ trying to get into his pants. He’s their mother’s cousin’s grandson. In fact, he is now an acknowledged bastard of the Elder House of Antilles.”

That certainly made him Alderaani.

“And you think he has some sort of midi-chlorian mutation?”

“Yes.” Marcus took a few long beans. “Assuming it’s in the midi-chlorians. Healer Mendl was researching it back then, doing pedigrees to track how it was inherited. She wasn’t sure if it was the humans who were mutants or if it was the midi-chlorians that were different, but she did track it through several families, including some nobility. You know how nobles and royals are. Inbred in general.”

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know if she ever tested Obi-Wan, but if she could find the gene in question, screening Jedi was supposed to be the next phase of the project. She was still looking when I got transferred to the Outer Rim. But while I worked at the embassy, I met many people that exhibited the traits. People who weren’t picked up on the Search but should have been. People who stayed with their families because they tested as borderline and were not. We’ve had to change how we screen there; we’re missing potential Jedi because the blood counts don’t give the whole story.”

 _Numbers lie_.

“And you think Obi-Wan has some of these traits?”

Marcus picked up his own cocktail napkin and waved it around. “Yeah, I _know_ he has the traits. If that’s his actual count, the swing between his resting state and active state must be huge. You trained him for a decade, Qui-Gon. Didn’t you notice the fluctuation in his Force presence depending on what he was doing?”

Qui-Gon stared into his half-full glass of ale. “I remember being surprised by his brightness when our first training bond formed and he always seemed more attuned when we were sparring, but he’s also been very private and not focused on the Living Force.” He frowned, pondering the situation. “Sometimes he would surprise me and meet objectives I didn’t think he would, but other times he would be much more consistent with his counts. I’ve never bothered doing Force portraits with him. He could barely see the Force in leaves and fruits. I always assumed he just couldn’t see anything.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Leaves and fruits have a Living Force presence, Quigs.” He held up a bean. “Is this a Magic Bean of Destiny? You’re supposed to help them see the Unifying Force too. Your padawan is not your clone. They won’t see the same things you do. That’s why it’s a game, not a lecture.”

He though back to Urdlea’s comments. Clearly Obi-Wan could see something he was blind to.

“How did they discover this anyway?” He knew midi-chlorians could be tested in a variety of tissues, though he would not want to be sampled for most of them.

Marcus finished the last of his ale, then signaled the server to ask for waters for them both to coddle their old livers. Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.

“You should ask Healer Mendl if you want the whole story, but the Jedi have known for a while that Alderaani Force users fluctuate oddly, and it was assumed to be hereditary, since it was also observed in Temple-raised Jedi and not in non-Alderaani monks who lived at the monastery. When the blood tests were put into practice, it was found that those fluctuating Jedi had lower counts than expected, but nothing else was done about it. Over time, screenings made use of blood tests more than Force insight, and fewer Jedi were recruited from Alderaan. The term ‘Alderaani Paradox’ actually comes from the healers. They noticed that what few Alderaani Jedi we had tended to have very bad reactions to certain medications. They assumed it was genetic, but figured it involved a missing liver enzyme, which is usually the case in such things, or so I’m told.”

“You mean like certain ethnic groups that can’t process alcohol and get very drunk on very little?”

Marcus shrugged. “Not a healer, not a biologist, but probably? Anyway, the healers noticed that a lot of people with these bad reactions were Alderaani, and it was always assumed it was a metabolism thing. Then one day a healer is treating a patient who has an epically bad reaction to a drug and the reaction is as if the dosage is wrong. This particular drug, I don’t know what it was, but the dosage is determined by midi-chlorian count. The higher the count, the lower the amount of drug the patient can tolerate.” Marcus glanced at Qui-Gon to see if he was following along. Qui-Gon nodded.

“Okay, so an enterprising apprentice healer decides this is a classic overdose, they are confident they dosed it correctly with the information they had, and against common sense takes a midi-chlorian count in a knight who reported a moderately low count that was consistent with their files.”

“And what happened?” Qui-Gon asked, though he had a strong suspicion.

“To the utter shock of the apprentice, master and most of the med staff, the knight’s midi-chlorian count was through the roof, higher than the amounts in their files. By _thousands_. They had most definitely been overdosed.”

Qui-Gon thought back to his conversations with Yoda. “So which count was correct?”

“That’s just it. They both were. When the knight recovered, the healers took another count for the official record because illness tends to _lower_ midi-chlorian counts, not raise them.”

“And it was back to normal?”

“No.” Marcus waved the Bean of Destiny at him to emphasize the point. “If it were, they probably would have just decided it was equipment failure and made a note on the patient’s file that they were sensitive to that kind of drug. According to Healer Mendl, when they tested the knight, the count was much lower than when they were ill, but still much higher than before they were sick. The counts were fluctuating.”

Qui-Gon sat quietly for a moment, thinking over everything that Marcus had told him. “So do the counts also fluctuate with their Force presence?

“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner.” He snapped off the end of the bean with his teeth. “Eventually the blood counts returned to normal, but the apprentice was intrigued. Checked the literature, did find instances of Jedi with fluctuating counts and Jedi with bad reactions to drugs with count-based dosing. Managed to identify some of the more recent ones and they came back Alderaani in both cases. No one had ever connected the two phenomena before, so they started looking deeper. They took counts before, during and after different activities. Took samples of different tissues. Got some poor souls to let them implant internal monitors. Lo and behold, not only is the fluctuation reflected in the blood counts, the other tissues are consistent with the higher counts, not the lower ones. Healer Mendl says blood isn’t the most accurate tissue to sample, just the quickest and easiest.”

“Blood is a tissue?”

Marcus shrugged. “Yes, that’s a scientist thing. I don’t remember why but it is. But that’s how they figured it out and if Healer Mendl ever found the gene, they were supposed to screen Jedi for it. Yoda was _very_ interested.”

Qui-Gon sat quietly. It was a lot to absorb. “And you really think this is true of Obi-Wan?”

“Yes. Obviously, I knew he was Alderaani, which meant I was looking for it, but I’ve felt the fluctuations. Maybe you never noticed because you took him on in the field where conditions change all the time, so it didn’t seem strange when you were finally back in the Temple.”

_Maybe you didn’t notice a lot of things._

“Also they had a very hard time getting a base count on him when he was an infant. Nothing dramatic, but the numbers kept bouncing around, more so than most babies.” Marcus sipped at his water. “He ever have any bad drug reactions?”

“Not that I . . .” he stopped. “Yes, he did. He got Zorran fever when he was eighteen. The only drug the healer had was Gussadril and had to calculate the dose by his count.”

Marcus’s eyes widened. “Kriff. That shit is even worse for those who lean toward the U. That’s like ‘last ditch, do not use unless dying’ stuff. They overdosed him on _that_?”

“Yeah,” Qui-Gon looked haunted.

“What happened?” Marcus looked horrified.

“Panic, mania, screaming hallucinations. After the initial vomiting of course. He was completely out of his head for days and remembered none of it after.”

“And they dosed him with his _base count_?” Marcus whistled. “Damn.”

“The Temple healers did stress he should not be given that drug again, but he fortunately didn’t die of the fever. The local healers also rechecked his counts, because he was a Jedi or something, and the numbers rose very high. They thought it was septicemia or that they had treated him too late and he was dying.” He shuddered at the memory. “They were stunned when he came out of it and only seemed to suffer weight loss and anxiety for a few weeks after. He was thoroughly checked for organ damage, but they found nothing other than minor damage from the fever and elevated liver enzymes from the drug reaction.”

“Yeah.” Marcus was still staring at him, stunned. “I don’t think they’ll need a DNA test to confirm that.” He shook his head. “He’s lucky he didn’t end up dead. Sometimes overdoses cause seizures.”

“Yoda never said anything.”

Marcus put the by now very mushy half a bean on his plate. “Well, you _are_ a master of the Living Force. He probably thought you would have noticed on your own.”

“The Jedi healers just said some people are really sensitive to it.” He frowned. “They said with his surname it wasn’t surprising.”

“It’s not.” Marcus pushed the citrus wedge in his water to the bottom of the glass and muddled it with his straw. “His name basically means ‘bastard spawn.’”

“It does?”

“Kenobi. Kin of someone named Obi. He is not given the family name of Antilles, because young Lady O. was not married like a good girl. Traditionally the name for an actual bastard is even worse, but the Organas are more liberal and cleaned up his name a bit before they let the Jedi have him. Now his name merely means that _someone_ in his line is illegitimate, not necessarily him.”

“I don’t recall hearing many ‘Ken-’ surnames on Alderaan.”

“Times change. People change their names.” He shrugged. “There are a lot more ‘Kens’ on Stewjon and Colstev. And there’s less stigma now. Outside of the Elder Houses you almost never see it anymore.”

“The _Organas_ cleaned it up?”

Marcus smirked. “You missed out Quigs. Obi-Wan’s deep file is a damn royal soap opera. His counts were bouncing around, so the grandparents were pushing the Jedi to take him at birth to get rid of him, but the Jedi wanted to wait until the numbers were stable and check again. The grandparents were adamant they would not take him in, his mother was still a minor with no say, and it was actually Mazicia who stepped in and had him brought to the palace and he shared a nursery with Rouge Organa. Little Bail adored him and wanted his parents to adopt him as a baby brother, and there are some hilarious baby pics of the royals playing with him. The Jedi were going to retest him at six months, but apparently, he started spinning his mobile hands free at four months, and well, low count or not, he had to go to the Temple before he hurt himself. Little Bail was heartbroken.”

It all put a very different spin on Little Bail’s interactions with his former apprentice.

“Did he know?”

“About living in the royal nursery? No. That stuff I heard from Big Bail. His deep file did not specify the nature of the relationship, just that he was distantly related. When I explained The Rules the _second time_ , I told him that the Organa kids were far enough to be legal and close enough to be icky, which is the truth.”

Qui-Gon was quiet for a long time. “So I wasn’t sent to the Aldera Biennial because the Council was pleased with my work.”

Marcus snorted. “Hell, no. Mace grit his teeth every time he sent you there after all the shit you pulled.” He shrugged. “Mazicia does respect you professionally, but it’s been more than twenty years. She can’t milk the Council for the Jedi knocking up her cousin’s kid anymore.”

No wonder Marcus hadn’t been surprised not to be sent to the summit. “Why did you send Vos and . . .” There was another one.

“Carlin. She’s the blonde knight who was recording the game and now thinks you’re a bantha’s ass. They’re all friends and Vos and Carlin had dealings with both delegations.”

_Friends then._

“And they were both crushing on him. Sentimental fool that I am, I knew he couldn’t get laid surrounded by just his cousins.”

Possessiveness shifted in his gut, but it was smaller now. He let it go. Obi-Wan was no longer his padawan. No longer his responsibility.

“That was very . . . considerate of you,” Qui-Gon grit out.

Marcus saluted him with his water. “Now there’s the attitude you need to be cultivating.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “His sex life if not my concern.”

“Even better.” Marcus slurped the last of his water. “It’s really none of your business. And I think he made it clear it’s never going to be your business, despite the fact that you finally noticed he’s powerful _and_ hot.”

Qui-Gon rested his elbow on the table, covering his eyes. “How obvious was I?”

Marcus snorted. “I don’t think Anakin noticed you had the hots for your former padawan before you recognized him. _Obi-Wan_ definitely noticed, but I don’t know if he realized you were confused or just thought you were being cruel.”

“Cruel?” He could certainly understand Obi-Wan not accepting his ill-fated advances, but not why it would be perceived as cruel.

“Yes, cruel.” Marcus was in no mood to mince words. “You spent twelve years withholding your affection and approval, you threw him out of your life and left him floundering without his knighthood and stopped all communication. And now that he finally has grown to be a successful knight, secure in his place, and your ambitions to replace him have been thwarted, only now do you come sniffing around, trying to seduce his body without a single care about who he is as a person. _Hello Sir Knight, you’re finally hot enough and strong enough in the Force for me to want to fuck. Who were you again, anyway?_ Yes. That’s cruel.”

Qui-Gon sighed. “I didn’t love him, Marcus, but I didn’t hate him. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive to him. I genuinely didn’t recognize him.”

Marcus shook his head. “You were indifferent to him and his feelings. And he grew up knowing that, probably thinking it was a model of Jedi detachment, while also watching you binding yourself to Tahl and finding someone to rescue or screw every other mission. The master-padawan bond is sacred, not an attachment or obligation, but a vow. You stopped honoring that a long time ago.”

Qui-Gon would argue, but this was starting to sound familiar.

“Yoda told me off. Told me to keep my lusts to myself.”

Marcus clapped a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh, knowing that was certainly not a threat to take lightly, but amused by the mental image.

“You _did_ piss him off.”

“I _know_ ,” he growled. “Part of me thinks they’re only sending me on this paperwork mission to get me out of their hair, and part of me is so grateful just to get out of the Temple.”

“You do sound like you need a fresh start.” Marcus leaned back in the booth, looking him over. “Tahl says you’ve come a long way. I’m glad you didn’t die.”

Qui-Gon gave him a challenging look.

“But you’re still here,” Marcus continued. “No one is remembering only the best of you and you’re still here to make mistakes, and you have to deal with the consequences of your choices.” He reached over and gently punched Qui-Gon in the bicep. “But even with all that, we’re still grateful you’re still here and despite all that has happened, I think that is also true for Yoda _and_ Obi-Wan.”

“I did my very best to live. I suppose I need to start taking responsibility for my life and choices.”

Marcus held up his glass of melting ice. “Welcome back, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn.” His grin was small but encouraging.

Qui-Gon clinked his glass with his old friend. He could no longer deny that many of the things he had been doing were not acceptable for a Jedi, and that Master Yoda’s long-ago reminder to take care to differentiate the will of the Force from his own was not misplaced. He still felt many of his choices were correct (he would never regret freeing Ani for example), but his motivations had clearly been clouded for a long time, and that was something a Jedi should not tolerate knowingly and expect to stay in the Light. For all that he felt unwelcome in the Order and from the Council, he was starting to realize it was his own actions that had led him here, not the obstinance of the Council, the ineffectiveness of his padawan, nor obstruction by Master Yoda. He had taken his master leaving as a sign the Order was in the wrong in many ways, but his master’s issues with the Jedi were independent of his own and for all that the Sith’s blade had struck true, he was not the injured party here.

_Work out issues we could have if willing to compromise more we both were._

He used to know how to negotiate. With his mouth. It was time to start meeting his opponents halfway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was a very busy chapter. Qui-Gon got a glimpse of a lot of things he had been missing, Ani learned a lot, there was Breggle Vengeance. What did you think? Did it meet with hopes and expectations?


	15. Part XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has an outing and catches up with old friends and less old friends, then discusses another dream. Si's wardrobe is inadequate, Bes is the Temple Style Consultant, young people are mentored, Wallace shares his wisdom, and Yoda is a troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from _Downtown_ by Petula Clark.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zx06XNfDvk0
> 
> So this is a bit of a self-indulgent chapter. Lots of character growth, especially for our original characters, as one of our plotlines is moving faster than the other. 
> 
> **WARNING** : Original character development. The fashion police may be called.

_When you're alone, and life is making you lonely_

_You can always go_

_Downtown_

_When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry_

_Seems to help, I know_

_Downtown_

_Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city_

_Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty_

_How can you lose?_

_The lights are much brighter there_

_You can forget all your troubles, forget all your cares_

_So go downtown, things'll be great when you're_

_Downtown, no finer place for sure_

_Downtown everything's waiting for you._

\-- Tony Hatch, _Downtown_

“Jitters? Are you alright?”

Knight Norwal blearily opened his eyes to see Knight Kenobi hovering over him, a very concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” he picked up his water bottle and took a sip. “Headache. Waiting for the pill to kick in. Was up all night.”

Obi-Wan did not look reassured. “You’re very pale and you look dehydrated.”

Jitters frowned as Kenobi touched his hands and arms. The other knight was notoriously _not_ touchy-feely. It wasn’t until he felt warm fingers on his neck that he realized his neighbor was checking his vital signs, not coming on to him.

“Your pulse seems okay, and your breathing is normal, but you don’t look well.” He backed up a step and looked around for a second opinion. “Do you want to go to the healers?”

Jitters held up a hand. He _was_ kind of pale, but mostly that was due to him working in a variety of cave-like workshops deep within the Temple, not illness. “Nah. I’ll be okay. Just had too much caff last night and slept most of the day without rehydrating. I just need water and food. I’ve already showered.”

Obi-wan had crossed his arms and was frowning down at him in concern. “Would you like me to go with you to the commissary? Or bring something back?”

Jitters shook his head and sat up straighter, realizing his neighbor was genuinely worried.

“No, no. I was going to head down there shortly. Just wanted to get some water down first.” He blinked, assessing his own condition. “Yeah, I’m okay, you don’t need to hold a vigil or anything. I just need some real food.”

“You are looking a little better,” Obi-Wan conceded as he reached out to check his pulse again. “But I’m really not comfortable leaving you by yourself.”

“I promise, I’ll be fine.” He noticed Obi-Wan was wearing his robe and fresh tabards. “You were clearly going out somewhere.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I was going to go out for a late dinner and try to meet up with an old friend, but it wasn’t planned, so he won’t miss me if I don’t show.”

“What kind of food?” Jitters knew from previous experience that as his headache faded it would be replaced with ravenous hunger.

Obi-Wan smiled. “I generally get a bantha burger, but it’s a typical greasy spoon catering to shift workers. My friend runs the grill.”

Jitter’s eyes lit up at the thought of carbs and grease. “Do they have caff?”

“For a certain definition of caff,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “It’s dark, wet and hot, but it’s not caff house gourmet.” He gave Jitters an assessing look. “It’s not far on the hover-bus if you’d like to join me.”

Jitters looked up at Knight Kenobi, wondering if he had anxiety too, or if he went to Vygor for something else. The other knight definitely acted more comfortable in social situations than he did but seemed to have trouble making friends. Jitters could relate.

“It sounds great, but I don’t want to interfere with you visiting your friend.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “I’m more concerned that if I bring you by, he’ll adopt you. He likes to feed us smaller, scrawnier Jedi.”

Vygor had been telling him to socialize more, that it was healthy and necessary for maintaining balance. “That sounds really good, actually. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“I felt a little weird going by myself, actually. I haven’t been there in a while and Dex is a close friend of my master’s, so I had been avoiding it.”

Jitters moved his head to crack his neck. “I’m game if it’s less than thirty minutes away.” His stomach growled. “It sounds better than all the healthy stuff in the commissary.’

Obi-Wan offered him a hand up. “You’ll want your robe, it’s a bit wet out.”

Jitters let him pull him upright. Kenobi watched him carefully, as if afraid he would fall, but the painkiller and water had done their job.

“I’ll be right back,” Jitters walked back to his room, found a mostly clean outerwear robe and put it on, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He did look rather the worse for wear. He gave his hair a quick brush and _Force,_ padawan hair was so much easier to deal with, then hurried out into the hall.

Kenobi was coming out of his own room again and when he caught back up to Jitters he handed him a ration bar. “To tide you over until we get there.”

Jitters was going to decline, but his suddenly howling stomach clearly had other ideas. “Thanks.” He dug in as they waited for the lift, hungry enough that the bland, cardboard-flavored bar tasted great.

“You’re welcome.”

“So what shall we go for, Force Warrior?” Quinlan Vos stepped into the foyer, followed by Kressa. “Correlian? Wookie? Bith?” He reached for the lift button, then noticed Obi-Wan and Jitters. “Hey guys, going out for dinner?”

Jitters couldn’t answer, between his growling stomach and mouth full of ration bar.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered for both of them. “I happened upon Jitters on my way out and he opted to break his fast and come with. You?”

Vos grinned and the young men noticed a purpling bruise on his cheekbone. “We’re celebrating. _Someone_ finally got the hang of throwing stones in Niman.”

There were chuckles. Jitters gave Kressa a high five.

“I take it you were not expecting it?” Obi-Wan asked.

Quinlan shrugged. Kressa looked a bit embarrassed.

“I still need to work on my aim,” she said.

Obi-Wan looked Quinlan’s face over carefully. “You got a good hit in.” He turned to Kressa. “I’ll have to wear a helmet the next time we spar.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t hit his eye.”

“Me too,” Quin resisted the urge to prod the bruise as the lift arrived and they piled on. “Where were you gents headed?”

“A diner over in Cocotown run by a friend I haven’t seen in a while. Jitters lit up at the idea of hot food, so it became an outing.”

Quin caught Kressa’s eye. “Diner food?”

Kressa looked torn. “Um, we wouldn’t want to um, intrude?”

All three men looked at her quizzically.

“We don’t want to intrude if this is a _date_ ,” she clarified.

Jitters stared at her, dumbfounded., unable to swallow the last of his ration bar in a suddenly bone-dry mouth.

Obi-Wan seemed mildly surprised but not offended. “No, it’s not a date, just a dinner out.” He turned to Jitters. “I assure you Knight Norwall, if I were trying to court you, I’d bring a finer token than a ration bar.”

Jitters managed to swallow and crumpled up the wrapper. “I’m an engineer. I’d take it.”

Kress gave him a suspicious look. “We’re you up all night again?”

He hunched a little. “Yes. But I think I figured out why the mode switching protocol was failing in the simulations.”

“At least it was productive,” Quin commented.

“Yeah. But I’m sure I’ll hear about it from Master Bert, so you don’t have to scold me. He’s surprisingly well balanced for an engineer. He checks in with us to make sure we don’t work ourselves too hard.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan stepped out of the lift and headed toward the terminal. “We’ll have to get his comm code in case you forget to take care of yourself.” He walked to the correct stop and turned back to the group. “I don’t mind if you want to come. The food is good if you’re in the mood for it. The general clientele is a bit rough.” He glanced at Jitters. “I don’t know how much socializing Jitters is up for.”

“I’ll be fine after more water and caff,” Jitters assured them.

“Diner food sounds _good_ ,” Kressa replied. “Do they have dessert menu?”

“Oh, yes. The pie is excellent.”

“Ooh, pie.”

The hover-bus stopped, and they all boarded.

“You said the diner was run by a friend of yours?” Quin asked.

“Yes, he’s an old friend of my master’s, so I hadn’t been to see him since before I was knighted.” Obi-Wan looked a bit embarrassed. “A mutual friend told me I was missed and a little bird told me Master Jinn almost certainly won’t be visiting tonight, so it seemed a good time to go.”

“The Force is telling you your master’s dinner plans?” Kressa sounded skeptical.

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head. “Master Yoda mentioned Master Tahl was getting back to the Temple this afternoon, so I expect she and Master Jinn will be spending the evening together.”

“Master Tahl who was at your vigil?” Kressa asked.

“The same,” Obi-Wan pulled the cord for their stop. “They’ve been together for as long as I’ve known them. Probably longer.” He got off the bus and the others followed. “And here we are, just a short walk around the corner.” He led them down the walkway and into the cozy diner. The lighting was a bit dim, but the place was very clean and moderately busy given the hour. Quinlan was slightly surprised that no one in the place batted an eye when four knights came in the door but considering how close it was to the Temple it probably wasn’t _that_ strange.

They were soon greeted by a serving droid who beeped politely at each of them as she scanned their faces. “Welcome to Dex’s Diner, party of four?”

Quinlan was about to say yes, when FLO reached Obi-Wan’s face and suddenly started chirping and trilling, sounding like the planet’s cheeriest alarm clock. “Honey!” FLO called out. “It’s that Jedi you were looking for!”

Obi-Wan blushed slightly as the kitchen windows burst open and a _huge_ Besalisk poked his head through.

“That can’t be Knight Kenobi FLO, can it?”

“Yeah, Hon. I think that was his name.”

The Besalisk lumbered out of the kitchen to greet him properly, but stopped short, slightly confused. “Obi-Wan?” he scrutinized the four of them.

“Dex?” Obi-Wan waved to get his attention.

Dex leaned down to stare into his face, puzzled a moment before he smiled in recognition. “There you are!” He reached out and wrapped the young man in a four-armed hug to the amusement of his friends. “I didn’t recognize you!”

“That’s okay, Dex. I’ve been getting that from the humans too.”

Dex held him at arm’s length, beaming like a proud uncle. “You look like a knight. It took me a moment to find your eyes.”

Obi-Wan looked at Kressa. “I’m definitely shaving the beard off now. My friends shouldn’t need facial recognition software to find me in a crowd.”

“Aww,” Kressa and Vos both looked disappointed. Jitters looked starving and indifferent.

“And you brought your friends,” Dex smiled broadly. “Come. Sit. FLO will get your orders and I will get your food and _you won’t stay away like that again_. Do you hear me?”

“I can’t guarantee that, but if it happens again, it won’t be by choice, Dex. I promise.”

“Fair enough.” He looked him up and down again. “You should keep the beard; it looks professional.” He lumbered back to the kitchen. “It’s the hair that is strange.”

The other knights cracked up, Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and FLO led them to a table.

“So,” Kressa asked as she sat down next to Quinlan. “You used to come here with your master?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan looked around. The place looked exactly as it always had. “It’s a good memory.”

Both Kressa and Quinlan looked surprised, but Obi-Wan said nothing more about it. It was past time to move on.

“Is that a typo?” Jitters wondered. “Because that would be a hell of a large bantha burger.”

“It’s not a typo,” Obi-Wan reassured him.

Kress was already looking at the list of desserts. “Look at all the pie. How to decide?”

“They also do take out.”

Quin’s eyes lit up. “Score! Pie at _home._ ”

Back in the kitchen, Dexter Jettster hummed to himself, wondering if Jinn had managed to start talking to Obi-wan again or if the Tattoo-rat had come through. Regardless, his young friend was looking well, finally the knight Dex always knew he could grow into, the knight Jinn was always afraid he would fall short of.

And he had brought friends! Dex couldn’t remember the last time _that_ had happened. He peeked through the window, watching the group as the orders came up on screen. He had been hoping for Obi-Wan’s sake when the group arrived that the young man was on a double date, but the body language was too platonic. The woman and the Kiffar were clearly a couple, but the other young knight looked a little too squirrely.

Smiling to himself, satisfied at last that both Obi-Wan _and_ Qui-Gon were for the most part okay, if not speaking, Dex sent SOUS to the walk in for more bantha patties and fired up the grill. There were young, starving Jedi in the house tonight.

* * *

It was quite late before the young knights made their way back to their corner of the Temple, giddy with laughter (and in Jitter’s case a disrupted sleep schedule) and well fed. After a dinner of some very good bantha burgers (and pie, so much pie), Dex had come out of the kitchen and told them several hilarious stories of young Obi-Wan’s exploits as seen from his point of view, an interesting story about Feemor, and asked about their own adventures as knights. Quinlan and Kressa were quite impressed by Dex’s knowledge of the Outer Rim, and also surprised by his long friendship with Knight Jerrold. Obi-Wan told a few stories about his earlier experiences with the Aldera Biennial Summit and did a fine impression of Knight Jerrold giving him The Rules when he was a teenager. Dex mentioned Master Jinn always seemed puzzled as to why Marcus made such a big deal about it, which would have led to an awkward silence if Obi-Wan hadn’t cracked up first and explained.

“That does explain a lot,” Obi-Wan finally managed to say as the giggles died down. “I always assumed he knew long before _I_ did.”

“So the crown prince was _not_ trying to get into your pants?” Dex was amused, but also a bit sad, having heard it only from Qui-Gon point of view before.

“No, he most certainly was not,” Obi-Wan wiped his eyes.

“And his sister was not either?”

“No.”

“And the other Prince Bail?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Nope. Still related.”

Dex frowned. “And the prime minister’s wife, who your master said kept dropping things and bending over in skimpy outfits?”

“Oh, she was definitely trying to bag a Jedi, just not me specifically. She hit on Master Jinn, Knight Jerrold, me, Reeft, Reeft’s master. It was awful. Reeft and I made a pact to tell everyone we were both still under the regulations for Junior Padawans. Fortunately I was still short enough to be able to pass for a minor. Reeft’s master told her he only slept with other hermaphrodites, and Knight Jerrold implied his breath mints were meds for some sort of increasingly dire venereal disease.” Obi-Wan looked around the table, trying to gauge is he was boring his audience.

“What did your master do?” Jitters asked.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “He probably would have slept with her, he attracts the groupies, but Knight Jerrold told him to keep it in his pants, and technically outranked him on the mission.” Obi-Wan paused, thinking. “I suspect he might have not followed that advice, because we weren’t assigned to the next conference, and were only let back four years later when there was a different prime minister. Rumor has it she successfully seduced Knight Xerin the year we were gone.”

Dex started laughing, deep in his belly. “Yes, Jerrold was very upset about it. Said that woman needed her own set of rules.”

“Knight Jerrold is very good about making up rules. Well, he calls them rules, but they’re more like guidelines,” Quin picked at his pie crust. He had much more pie than a healer would recommend and was quite pleased about it.

“Yes, he always gives you the rule, but the next one tells you what to do if you didn’t follow the first one,” Kressa grinned.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I thought it was generally easier to follow the first one, but it was good to know what to do in a worst-case scenario.”

“Most of my missions are with the Engineering Corp,” Jitters reported. “We sometimes go with diplomats to smooth things over. Sometimes they give us rules like that and we’re never sure if they’re being serious or yanking our chains.’

Quin snorted. “Jerrold is generally straight up. His wording may be a bit sarcastic, but the rule is there for a reason. He’s not kidding around or trying to make your life difficult.”

“Some cultures can have very odd customs,” Kressa continued. “They can have weird rules about who can wear what, who can go where, who can say what. Jedi are usually granted more leeway. We usually aren’t as constrained by age or gender roles on a given planet as long as we’re respectful. But what is respectful is different in each culture. Knight Jerrold is good at distilling it down to simple guidelines. He deals with a lot of different cultures and a lot of different Jedi, many who are not Dip Corp.”

“Master Bert is sending some of us out on an engineering project near Rylon space. He’s going to be working with Knight Jerrold on it,” Jitters sighed. “I’m hoping I don’t get sent. It’s not my area of expertise, but Master Bert thinks I need more well-rounded experiences.”

Kressa and Vos shared a look.

“If the natives ask you to play a friendly game of sabacc, say no,” Quin advised. “They are cutthroat. Literally and figuratively.”

“And do some drills against blasters. They can draw them quick out there. There isn’t much in the way of entertainment, so shooting is a popular hobby, followed by drunken brawls.”

Jitters considered their advice. “I’ll do my best to look pathetic. If it doesn’t work on Master Bert, it will be good practice hiding from the natives.”

“Well, as a Jedi you already look like you have nothing worth stealing if you keep the lightsaber under wraps,” Quin assured him.

“We can also drill with you if you’re worried about it. It’s hard to keep your form intact after the Trials,” Obi-Wan offered.

Jitters grimaced. “I barely passed the saber trials. I really should.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Get some sleep. We can schedule when you’re feeling better.”

“I’ll let you fire a blaster at me so long as you don’t use the damn floaty droids. Those things hate me. It’s like they know I could reprogram them and are trying to get in their last licks before I do.” Jitters shuddered.

“Have you reprogrammed them?” Kressa asked.

“Yeah, a couple times. There were dares and large quantities of caffeinated sugar involved. We Eng Corp types don’t tend to drink much. Leads to bad calculations and worse ideas that seemed great at the time.”

Dex burst out laughing. “Speaking of drunk engineers, one time when I was prospecting in the Rishi Maze, our engineer decided to get into the drink just before our hyperdrive went on an indefinite vacation. There we are floating in space, drifting, and he’s so drunk you could smell it coming through the air recyclers . . .”

* * *

“I’ve been making efforts to socialize more when I’m back in the Temple.” The mobile spun lazily, unassisted by Knight Kenobi. Vygor took this to mean it had gone well.

“Was it platonic or romantic in nature?”

“Entirely platonic, for me at least. There was a couple in the group.” He shrugged. “I’ve also tagged along with Master Yoda a few times. He and his friends are still teaching me Breggle.”

“Are you teaching your friends?” Vygor asked.

“A few. I’ve shown some of my neighbors the basic practice routines before passing them on to more experienced instructors. Knight Carlin has made great progress with Master Bes and Knight Norwal has teamed up with a neuroscientist to do a long-term study with the retired Jedi. Apparently, there is a new resident who has never played before and they are very excited to see the learning process from the beginning.”

Vygor grinned. “I can’t say I’d ever think to suggest Breggle, but it seems to have been good for you.”

“It’s been fun. And useful.”

Vygor nodded. They had covered that in a previous session. “And it’s given you a reason to spend more time with Master Yoda, while also giving you a means to build friendships with Jedi your own age.” He smiled at Obi-Wan’s nod. “He’s very clever like that.”

“He’s been encouraging me to make more friends among my peers since I was a padawan. I have trouble with it.”

“Because you’re shy or because Master Jinn discouraged it?”

“Both,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I have equal trouble making friends inside and outside the Jedi. Master Jinn didn’t approve of close relationships when I became a padawan, but it was never something I was very good at.”

“You do seem to have difficulty initiating relationships, but don’t seem to have trouble maintaining them.”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan frowned. “I never really thought of those as separate before, but I guess they are.”

“It’s easier to deal with than the reverse. You seem to be making good progress.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “You’re starting to sound like Master Yoda.”

Vygor looked down at his hand, still clutching his stylus. “Not green yet.” Vygor paged through the notes. “And how about your sexual feelings? Just because your social outings are platonic doesn’t mean your inner thoughts are.”

Obi-Wan gave Vygor an amused glance. “Not green? Really? Are you sure?”

The therapist laughed. “I take it Master Yoda has also been checking in?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan settled a bit in his chair. “He has also been encouraging me to find more adult companionship but has been careful not to push a sexual element as a requirement.”

“Romantic love versus sexual love?”

“Yes.”

“Is that something you want?”

Obi-Wan was silent, thinking it over. “The romantic and domestic aspects of a relationship are more appealing than the sexual elements. Even though I did not have a romantic relationship with Master Jinn, much less a sexual one, and I do value my independence, I find I miss coming home and knowing someone will be there. Having someone to talk to over meals, to discuss things with, and just make life less lonely. Less romance I suppose than companionship, but . . . I guess romance seems like less of a leap for me, though it still feels like a logistical impossibility.”

“You think you’ll never find someone who would want companionship without sex?”

“Yes.” The mobile began to spin the slightest bit more deliberately. “I’ve seen my neighbors pair off, or well, group off, and we’re Jedi, not saints. We gossip. The others speak quite openly about their sex lives and whether they are satisfied or not. I don’t offer that, so I haven’t tried for anything beyond friendship. And I haven’t wanted to.”

“You don’t want to pursue that with anyone in general, or you have feelings for someone, but you don’t want to act on those feelings?”

“I’m not really having feelings for anyone and I don’t think I’d want to pursue them if I did.”

Vygor paused. “What do you mean by ‘not really having feelings?’”

Obi-Wan looked down while the mobile spun. “I had another dream. That complicates things.”

“A sexual dream?”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Not precisely. It was more companionable, less blatant then the one we discussed previously. It might have been platonic, it’s hard to say.”

“So you were washing in the hot tub?”

Obi-Wan laughed, startled. “No. No hot tubs this time. I was in a room, different from my room now, but probably mine based on what I could see on the walls.”

“A room in your future.”

“Yes. I was older, like in the other dream, but I don’t know how much older.”

“What happened?”

“Not much. I was laying on the bed, probably mine, but it was bigger than the bed I have now.”

Vygor restrained himself from comment. There were Lanniks who had bigger beds than Obi-Wan’s. “You weren’t alone?”

“No. Someone was there. I couldn’t see who they were.”

"What did they do? What did you do?”

Obi-Wan squirmed slightly in the chair, but Vygor took it as a sign of how far he’d come that he could have this conversation face to face.  
  
“They were laying against my shoulder and stroking my arm.” Obi-Wan frowned. “It was . . . companionable? Close? I may be misinterpreting it. Whoever it was may have been a padawan, not a . . . a companion.”

“What did your dream self sense from this other person?”

“It was someone I had a bond with, but I don’t know anything about the nature of the bond.”

“How do you know it was there?”

“I could feel it. There were . . . there were emotions passing back and forth. No real messages. But I’m still learning. I don’t know if it was a training bond or something different.”

“You’ve only had training bonds before?”

“Yes. Two with Master Jinn, both broken now, a mild one with one of my creche masters, even weaker ones with the rest, and weak ones with some of my instructors. My gymnastics and aerials instructors for spotting purposes. My first saber building instructor. I think he thought I was having trouble with the lessons. The initiate saber instructors were also very open with the students, but I don’t think those were true bonds.”

“They aren’t, but you’re right, they are very open. They aren’t just training initiates to use their sabers but are also training their minds to be receptive to a training bond when it forms. That’s why there are so many of them per student.”

“Oh.” It made sense, but he hadn’t realized it.

“Master Yoda?” Vygor asked.

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan agreed. “He was also very open with us, so it may have been along the same lines, teaching us.”

“It’s not.”

“It isn’t?” Obi-Wan asked.

Vygor chuckled. “In your case, it’s not. Master Yoda is more open with the younglings and he is strong enough in the Force that he can touch their minds and guide them without forming a true bond, but you definitely have a training bond with Master Yoda.”

“Really?”

“You’ve said you had a small bond with him from your initiate days. He’s said the same thing, but also that it strengthened both times you’ve lived with him and trained with him regularly, which would be expected. It’s clear from watching you play Breggle together that you haven’t shut it down.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment. “Should I have?”

“Do you feel you should have?”

“No. I didn’t realize it was unusual.”

Vygor shook his head. “I think you misunderstood me. Retaining old training bonds after knighting is not unusual. Very often they develop into bonds of friendship as they lose the pendantic aspects, and former masters take on new padawans and young knights take padawans of their own. Given your turbulent end to your apprenticeship and your previous relationship, your bond with Master Yoda is actually quite healthy. What is unusual is your bond with Master Yoda is fairly strong, more so than is typical of his connections with his students. More similar to a bond he would have with a padawan, or in your case a half-padawan, than a student in a class. It sounded as if you hadn’t realized that.”

Obi-Wan thought this over. “It seems silly to hear you say that, but I don’t think I did. It seemed presumptuous to think it was any stronger than the bonds he had with my agemates.”

“He held a vigil for you. You’re a dear friend, not just another student.”

Obi-Wan nodded, clearly making a mental note to meditate on this more.

Vygor took a moment before pulling them back to focus. “So you can’t characterize the bond, but you had one with this person?”

“Yes.”

“What were the emotions passing back and forth?”

“Calm. Contentment. Quiet happiness. Safety.” He grew quiet. “Love, I think.”

Vygor nodded. “What type of love?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I don’t know. That’s part of why I’m not sure what the nature of the relationship was. There was closeness, but it wasn’t actually sexual. On the other hand, I would never have acted that way toward my master.”

Vygor looked at his patient intently. “Is it possible this was post-coital intimacy?”

Obi-Wan startled. “Hell if I know.” He ran the scene through his head again. “I was dressed? The bed was neat?”

Vygor snorted. “Perhaps that was an unfair question. I agree, this seems ambiguous, but I do think it sounds more like an intimate relationship than a strictly platonic one. This could be a person you share a sexual relationship with, someone you share a romantic relationship with, or even a padawan. I understand you and Master Jinn would not have behaved that way together, but for masters and padawans undertaking S-training, that sort of closeness would not be unusual.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “I had another patient who was not sexually compatible with their padawan. They opted to find a different master for S-training, but this is akin to the relationship they had between themselves. Comfort. Care. Non-sexual touching and intimacy. Even bed-sharing.”

“It’s very confusing.”

“It’s not clear-cut,” Vygor agreed. “You said this person was stroking your arm. How did the touching make you feel?”

Obi-Wan was quiet, thinking it over. “It was pleasant. Not unwelcome. The dream self did seem to pay an inordinate amount of attention to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The dream self seemed to be focusing on it, on the sensations. They weren’t threatening, but . . . it was almost like a sensory meditation.”

“Your dream self was focusing on the feeling of this other person stroking your arm?”

“Yes.” He still sounded puzzled by it, not sure what it all meant.

“The dream self was focusing on the sensation of another person giving you pleasure?”

Obi-Wan was silent for several seconds. “Well, that’s one way of looking at it.” He sighed. “You see why I am not sure how to feel about it. What does it mean?”

“Well, I’m not Master Pythia, but I would hazard to guess that as in your previous dream, future you is comfortable receiving pleasure from another person you are very comfortable with, and seems to be in a healthy relationship, which may not necessarily be sexual, but seems to be mutually beneficial.”

Obi-Wan made a frustrated noise. “So maybe when I’m in my forties I’ll find someone who can be content with cuddling or instead I might have a padawan and we don’t eschew all physical contact?”

Vygor shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe sooner. The calm, content and comfortable description may indicate a long-term relationship that you may enter into sooner than that. There is also the possibility that like the last dream, this is also foreplay, or in the context of a relationship with sexual elements.”

“The Force is being maddeningly vague.”

“And that is why you aren’t entirely certain what you are feeling?”

“Yes. I accept that this is a potential future me, and this is one was less disturbing than the other dream, but far less clear.”

“Perhaps the Force is preparing you emotionally, so that when the opportunity arises, you won’t be too afraid to take the chance.”

“Does the Force even work like that?”

“I think it does. Sometimes, especially for Jedi like yourself that lean toward the U, dreams warn of things we cannot hope to change. Some patients get hung up on the what ifs, but others sometimes grieve or deal with their hard emotions before the event happens, which helps them continue their duties in the crisis without being shocked by it. Sometimes Jedi will get visions of lives they wish to have or lives they wish to avoid. Everyone has dream and fantasies, and regular dreams are the brain’s way to train for different scenarios that one might have to respond to in real life. With Force dreams, in my practice there have been cases where the brain was similarly preparing, but much more directed than the typical ‘waking up for an exam in a class you never took.’”

“So the Force is telling me to open my mind?” Obi-Wan snorted. “This is starting to sound familiar.”

“Because I’ve said it, or Master Yoda has said it?”

“Both of you,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I have tried to open my mind and clear my head during meditations.”

“Then accept the gift of insight and when you’re ready, ask for more.”

“You both make it sound so simple.”

“It’s not easy,” Vygor conceded. “But in love of many kinds, there is only so much one can do.”

“I know I might be alone all my life and acknowledge that not being alone is not necessarily better, even frightening. I just wish I knew what it meant.”

“Whatever it was, you seemed both serene and happy. A very good outcome for a Jedi.”

“It was not bad,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“And a year ago, you might have found it more disturbing than you do now.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Progress.”

* * *

“Are you alright, Si?” Bes peeked in Si’s open door.

“ _I’m_ fine,” Si growled, glaring at the piles of clean clothes on his couch and chair. “It’s my wardrobe that’s lacking.”

Bes gave the clothes a look over. They were familiar. Some were the full Jedi dress Si had worn to the vigil. The rest were less fussy, but admittedly worn and tired looking clothes he tended to wear day to day.

“What are you trying to dress for?” he asked. His own clothes were chosen more for convenience than style these days.

“Drallig’s seminar.” Si lifted a worn tunic with the Force, scowling at it. “I don’t need to look professional, but I can’t look like my usual sloppy self.” He spotted a worn spot and grumbled, dropping it into a pile on the other side of the couch.

Bes looked over the piles of clothes. He didn’t think Si dressed all that sloppy, but this _was_ the rest home. None of them were concerned about looking sharp over being comfortable. Si didn’t have that many clothes to begin with, and it was clear he hadn’t bought anything new in a while.

“When’s the last time you went to Stores?” he asked.

Si was scrutinizing another tunic, scowling as he found worn spots on the elbows. “When we went with that Mon Calamari knight,” he answered absently.

“When was the last time you went and bought anything?”

Si stilled, looking vaguely embarrassed. “Probably when I lived in the Masters Tower.”

Bes let that sink in. “You haven’t bought new clothes in ten years?”

Si winced. “I was downsizing and expected to die in a few years at most.” He picked up a sweater that was actually in pretty good shape but did not quite inspire confidence style-wise. “Master usually brings me clothes on my birthday.” He laid the sweater aside in a different pile. “Socks, underwear, sweaters. But no, I haven’t bought clothes recently. I usually saved my credits for art supplies back when I could still paint. And I’ve lost muscle mass in the last fifteen years.” He picked up a pair of pants with a look of distaste. “I don’t want to look like a damn scarecrow.”

“You don’t want to wear your, um, funeral clothes?”

Si glanced at the formal clothes laid out on the chair, reluctant. “They look like funeral clothes.” He sighed, then used the Force to move the good clothes off the chair and hung them on some wall hooks. “My apologies. Please, sit.”

Bes sat down, glad to get off his mechanical feet. Si perched on the edge of his couch. “I’m being silly,” he admitted. “Fussing over things I can control.”

“It’s not a bad thing to dress well, Si. Especially if you’re being sent in as an authority figure.”

Si gazed at the pile of rejected tunics and pants. “I used to care about how I dressed. When I retired it didn’t seem to matter anymore.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know how much clothing _costs_ these days, much less fittings.”

Bes was pretty sure most of the residents didn’t bother with having their clothes tailored. Heck, many of them barely even considered _sizing_ , not seeming to notice they didn’t have the same bodies they had twenty years ago. But Bes remembered running into Si at various local arts events in his youth, and even in civilian clothes, Si had always dressed well.

“Do you have any Stores credits left in your scrip account?” Bes asked. He knew Si was probably not ready to leave the Temple, even with help, and if he hadn’t bought clothes in more than a decade, he should probably go in person to be sized.

“My what?”

“Your scrip account. Jedi in the retirement home get a yearly stipend in Stores scrip.” Bes shrugged. “It’s more affordable and stretches farther than giving us full pensions in Republic credits.”

“We do?” Si looked baffled.

“Yes,” Bes shrugged. “I don’t know if you start getting them when you move to the home or retire. That was the same time for me. Or if it makes a difference if you have a disability or not, but it’s supposed to replace the part of your stipend that gets reduced when you retire.”

“I have no idea,” Si admitted. “I wasn’t in a good place mentally when I retired and when I moved in here. I don’t recall signing up for anything like that.”

“I think it’s automatic. It would be linked to your other accounts on the Temple network.” He glanced at Si’s desk but there wasn’t a data processor on it. It wasn’t that Si didn’t know how to use computerized communications so much as he found them to be difficult and frustrating to physically manipulate. He opted to use a public terminal on those rare occasions he was forced to send a non-verbal message or place an order and Sister Gabby would bring him printouts of any important messages he received, usually from Master Yoda.

Si looked back over his clothes again. “I still have credits saved in my bank accounts. I drew a salary into my late eighties and didn’t do much after I retired.” He sighed. “I suppose I could spare enough funds for clothing that was manufactured in this decade.”

“I can spot you some scrip credits if you need,” Bes smiled. “I save a lot not buying shoes.”

“Pity. You always had excellent taste in shoes.”

“Really?” Bes had no reason to think Si would have noticed his footwear, particularly back when he still had feet.

“Yes. Your shoes always looked well made, stylish and practical. You didn’t prance around in platform boots or skimp on arch support or buy cheap shoes that wouldn’t protect your feet and ankles in a fight.” Si shrugged. “I had to give a lot of lectures about taking care of feet. You never needed it.”

“My master was very particular when shoe shopping.”

“So that’s who you got it from,” Si chuckled. “She showed up to class once in high boots with little narrow heels. Both heels broke within twenty minutes, she sprained an ankle and she learned the dangers of cheap shoes.”

Bes laughed, not having heard that story before.

“Who would I have to speak with to find out about this scrip account?”

“Hmm,” Bes frowned. “If you have an account, Stores can look it up for you if they aren’t too busy. Field Jedi usually get priority since they are often stocking up between mission runs, but they are patient with us old folks. If an account was never set up, you’d probably have to go to the Compensation Office.”

Si scowled over his clothes again. “I really only need pants, a shirt of some kind and a robe that doesn’t have tears or smells of mothballs.” His clothes didn’t actually smell bad, but even his good robe looked a little worn out. Of course, he had been planning on setting it on fire, so it hadn’t mattered before. “My boots are still serviceable.”

“Do you want to go to Stores after lunch?” Bes asked. “I was going to look at the jackets, see if I could find something nice for the trip to Aleut’s.” He knew he really wouldn’t buy anything, but he liked to look, and jackets were less stressful to try on. He didn’t have to undress for those.

Si looked suspicious, as if he knew Bes didn’t really need to go shopping. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

“Good,” Bes grinned.

Si shook his head and began gathering his clothes up to put them away again. “At least I have socks and underwear.”

* * *

Bes arrived at lunch to find Si had changed clothes for the shopping trip and was now wearing his least tattered shirt and pants, his walking shoes and the sweater he had been inspecting. Thinking back, Bes seemed to remember it as a gift from Yoda for Si’s 100th birthday, and it seemed of high quality and was well cared for. Apparently, Yoda _wasn’t_ expecting Si to die anytime soon.

Denna gave Si an assessing glance as he sat down in his usual spot and one of the brothers brought him his soup in a mug and a disassembled sandwich. “You going out on the town, Si?”

Si rolled his eyes. “Bes and I are going to Stores. I need some pants without patches and tears.”

Denna’s lekku twitched. “You have a hot date then?”

“No.” Si brought a small morsel of food to his mouth and swallowed carefully. “Cin wants me to consult. Can’t go back to the old stomping grounds looking like a wildman.”

Denna cut her eyes to Bes, then back to Si. “You do know you’re allowed to be retired, yes?” Her tone was teasing, but her expression and head tails revealed she was pleased.

“I know. It’s a one-off. Cin does a fine job without me, but you know how it is with Laelen enjoying his retirement in the Force and all.”

“Is Cin doing alright?” Master Clearing looked up from his soup, eyes wide and anxious.

“He’s fine,” Si soothed, apologetically. “He just needs help with a project.”

“Yoda isn’t helping him? Yoda has to finish his training,” Wallace looked very disturbed.

“Yoda did,” Si carefully laid a shaking hand on Wallace’s wrist and the anxiety subsided. “He has my old job now and he’s doing very well.”

“I didn’t forget him. _I didn’t_ ,” Wallace insisted. “Tell him I didn’t forget him.”

“He knows, Wallace. He visits you every month.”

Wallace’s face lit up with joy. “Is he coming to visit?”

“He’ll visit at breakfast in two weeks, Wallace.”

“He’s such a wonderful padawan. I never tell him that.”

“He’s a master now. All grown up. You did right by him.”

Wallace grew teary-eyed. “He’s a master? _Oh!_ ”

“Eat your soup now, so Cin won’t worry about your health.”

“Yes,” he looked down at his bowl, determined. “Don’t want Cin to worry. He has to focus on his classes.”

Si drew back his hand and went back to his own lunch.

Bes looked on in surprise. “You handled that very well.” Si didn’t typically volunteer to actively supervise Wallace, his hands making it too difficult to do alone.

Si shrugged. “Wallace often gets disturbed by the same Force currents that wake me up some nights. We talk until we can both go back to sleep.” He looked their friend over before continuing. “I was also there the night he lost his grasp on the present. Yoda and I told him we would take care of Cin. It’s one of the last things he remembers.” Si continued to discreetly watch Wallace eat, deep in thought, until a nun came to take him for his daily walk through the Terrace gardens, still chattering about his former padawan.

“I didn’t know you were around for Wallace’s illness.”

“Yes, well, I try not to bring it up. He could feel his grasp slipping, but we didn’t know what was wrong yet. He kept having visions of Yoda knighting Cin instead of himself and became very paranoid and angry about it. I try not to remind him of it.”

“He worries about Cin a lot.” Bes dug into his own soup. “I’m never sure what to tell him when he gets fussed about it.”

“If he is calm, see if you can get him to talk more,” Si suggested.

“Why?”

“Because I was just remembering what else he was saying that night.”

Bes stiffened at Si’s serious tone and caught his eye.

“He said Cin would be killed by a Sith.”

Bes could feel himself blanch.

“Damn.”

* * *

Bes was surprised to see two scooters waiting for them when he reached the reception area, and that Si had opted to leave his walking staff at home.

“Are you feeling okay?” Bes looked concerned.

“Other than the deep anxiety about going out there, yes.”

Bes gestured at the scooter.

“Ah. Might have to carry things. Walking I can manage. Walking and carrying things can get dicey.” Si put on his shaded glasses and powered up his scooter.

“Well don’t you speed ahead on the pavilion and leave me behind again.”

“I promise to restrain myself.”

“Good.” Bes led the way, although he was fairly sure Si could remember from their last visit.

They arrived without incident, parked their scooters, then Bes sat down while Si stood in line at the Service Desk to inquire about the scrip account. Having a valid form of identification did come in handy.

“Ah, here you are.” The clerk had scanned his new card and a linked record did come up. “There haven’t been any recent orders on your account, but you do still have a linked bank account, a scrip account, and there’s a notation on your file to accept an ID card and thumbprint in lieu of a signature.”

“Yes, I set the fingerprint signature up a long time ago, but I don’t recall setting up a scrip account.”

“I think they do that automatically when you retire.” The clerk, a small female covered in soft, pastel-colored fur, gave him a toothy grin. “We get a lot of newly retired Jedi who are surprised by it. I guess they don’t advertise it very well.”

“And many of us don’t live long enough to retire.” Si breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he still had funds in his bank account, he had already commed his barrister’s clerk to check, but he so rarely had to access it that he wasn’t entirely sure he had all the correct documentation to do so easily. “Can you tell me the available balance on the scrip account?”

“Certainly.” The clerk checked his identification card again, just to be sure, then clicked a few more buttons. “It depends on how long you’ve been retired, but there should be something in it if it’s been at least sixty days.” The screen opened to the account and the clerk’s eyes widened. “Um, Master, um,” she glanced at his card. “Master Silvanus, it says you have 32,427 credits available in Stores scrip.”

Si raised his eyebrows. “That can’t be right.”

The clerk cleared out the screen and scanned his card again. “Um, yeah, that seems like a bit much.” The screen came up again. This time she called up the ID pic on the account. It was identical to the card pic and was obviously the person in front of her. The amount was the same. “Um, how long have you been retired?”

Si grimaced. “Seventeen years. I’ve lived in the retirement home for ten.”

“And you’ve never touched the scrip account?”

“I didn’t know it existed.”

The clerk tapped a few more buttons. “Yes, there’s no record of any purchasing activity on the account, but that seems a little high.” She frowned. “Would you mind having a seat while I check with my supervisor? I want to make sure this isn’t an error.”

“I’d prefer you do, honestly,” Si nodded his thanks, then walked back to sit next to Bes, looking stunned.

“Everything okay? Did you have an account?”

“I did. There’s too much credit in it. They’re trying to figure out why.”

“Was there enough to get some clothes?”

“If it really exists? Yes. But chances are good something was done wrong.”

Si and Bes waited patiently as the supervisor came in and went over it all again with the clerk. Her eyes bugged out in the middle of the very animated conversation. The supervisor clicked through a few more screens, grabbed a calculating tablet and ran some numbers, frowned at the continued discrepancy, then- picked up the comm to consult someone further up the ladder. Even from this distance, they could easily lipread as the supervisor carefully spelled out Si’s first name. Si briefly wondered if Master Yoda had transferred additional funds into the account. Eight hundred years of frugal living could really add up.

After several more minutes, the supervisor’s face indicated the mystery had been solved. She thanked whoever she was talking to, disconnected, then spoke briefly with the wide-eyed clerk. Si began to suspect some sort of decimal point error.

Both the supervisor and the clerk came out from behind the desk and approached the two elders.

“Master Silvanus? We checked and we were able to solve the discrepancy.” The clerk handed back his card, and Si carefully accepted it into his shaking hand and put it back in his belt.

“Were you able to determine the correct balance?”

The young clerk almost giggled. “That _is_ the correct balance.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “How much are Jedi issued every month or year?” It was scrip, not actual credits. It shouldn’t accrue interest.

“I get almost 1200 credits a year,” Bes replied. “I think that’s standard.”

Si didn’t have to do the math. “That’s still too much.”

“Yes, we know. That’s why we called the Compensation Office. Most of the scrip credits are the standard allotment and have accumulated in the seventeen years you haven’t touched the account.”

Bes’s eyes widened in surprise, not realizing Si had been retired for quite that long.

“The additional allotment is there because you were a major contributor to the retirement funds that make scrip accounts possible.”

Si looked up at them blankly. “I was?”

The supervisor beamed at him. “You are Simet Silvanus, the painter, yes?”

Si held up a shaking hand. “I used to be.”

“Yes, well, apparently you and several other artists had sold some of your work through a dealer and had them pay your balance to one of the retirement funds rather than directly to you.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “There wasn’t a better place to put the funds than into a scrip account for my personal use?”

“Oh, no, Master Silvanus. The extra twelve thousand credits in your account isn’t a credit to credit match. Like other generous Jedi artists, the proceeds of the sales went into the general fund, and the scrip program is primarily funded by the interest off the fund, not the principal. And of course scrip costs the Jedi less than pension funds as we can purchase in bulk. It’s just a standard thank you after your contributions reached a certain level.”

Si was quiet for a long moment. “A certain level? I know we set up the account with Nico Aleut decades ago, but I don’t remember him selling more than a few paintings.”

“Oh yes,” the supervisor beamed. “Several of your paintings sold in the 2-300,000 credit range. There were also many print sales. Thirty or more years ago. The interest from your paintings and that of the other artists have been helping to fund Jedi programs for _decades_. So you get a small bonus as a thank you and because you probably paid for the art supplies out of your salary or stipend. We’ve been told to thank you on behalf of the Compensation Office and the Fundraising Department.” She was practically glowing, as was the clerk. “Thank you. Please don’t hesitate to ask for assistance if you need it.” With a smile and a shallow bow, both women returned to their posts, leaving two stunned Jedi in their wake.

“You have twelve thousand credits in your scrip account?” Bes was amazed.

“I have twelve thousand _extra_ credits in my scrip account.” Si sounded a bit overwhelmed. “I have thirty-two thousand credits in total.’

“And you were just living off your savings and pension?”

“Ugh,” Si covered his face with a shaking hand. “I have thirty-two thousand credits in the scrip account I didn’t know about and my master has been buying my socks and underwear for ten years.”

Bes burst out laughing, unable to stop it. Si looked mortified.

“So I think this means you can afford some pants.”

“What the hell am I going to do with thirty-two thousand credits in scrip?”

Bes giggled some more. “Buy Master Yoda socks and underwear?”

“He doesn’t wear socks.” Si seemed bewildered. “His underwear is custom made though. He used to complain about padawan underwear being so much cheaper until I convinced Stores to make a bulk order because he would live long enough to use it all.”

Bes laughed outright. Si looked at his cheerful face and chuckled back. When the hilarity died down, Bes pushed himself up from his chair. 

“Come on, Si. Let’s get you some authority clothes.”

Si stood up. “Authority clothes?”

“Clothes than will make everyone remember you’re still a badass.”

Si rolled his eyes. “Maybe we should just start with still mentally competent.”

“No. Badass. You’re critiquing and you will be taken seriously.”

“I think you’re spending too much time with those young knights.”

“ _Bad. Ass._ ” Bes led Si over to the clothing department, which was not where it had been a decade ago due to renovations.

“Good afternoon, Master Bes.” A young Bothan assistant waved from behind the counter. “Is it time to buy more gloves already?”

Bes laughed. “No, Edro. Quinlan’s birthday isn’t for a few months yet. This is Master Si. He needs an outfit that says, ‘even though I’m retired, you should still be intimidated.’”

Si rolled his eyes. “I need to look mentally competent, and I need something without complicated fastenings.” He glanced down at his shaking hands that were more obvious in his sweater. “Stain resistant would be good too.”

The clerk looked him over, noting his height and that his clothes were cut for a slightly larger build. “Are we looking for Jedi garb or a more civilian look?” He stepped around the counter. “And would you like to be resized?”

Si considered the question. “Yes to resizing, though I don’t want anything too tight. I’m not going out into the field or anything, but . . .” He glanced at Bes. “I should probably look like I’m a Jedi, not a lost tourist.”

“Is this for a special occasion?” Edro asked.

“I’m participating in a Masters’ Level seminar.” He looked down at his pants. “I’m not as muscular as I used to be. All of my clothes bag too much and make it look as if I’ve been wasting away, as opposed to not dressing well.”

“And what price point are we looking at?”

Si looked flummoxed. Bes burst out laughing again.

“Master Si just learned he’s had a scrip account for the past seventeen years.”

The Bothan clapped his hands together, a smile on his canine snout. “Such a delightful discovery, yes? Happens a lot, actually.” He gestured for Si to follow him to the measuring area. “Well, let’s get started with getting your measurements done, and then we can try to get a sense of what you’re looking for.” He nodded at Bes. “You’ve brought a very good style consultant with you.”

Bes blushed. “Um.”

“I’m aware.” Si took off his sweater, then stepped up onto the scanning platform. “Barring a few of his padawan years, Bes has always had good taste.”

Edro directed him to turn around, lift his arms, lift his knees up and bend at the waist to get a sense of where his joints were (which varied considerably across species), then came up with the measuring tape for the more tricky measurements the scan could miss. After they were done, he scanned Si’s ID card to enter them into his record.

“Hmm, you have less mass than you used to, but not as much change as one would expect after seventeen years. You haven’t lost significant height, and your posture is excellent.”

“Thank you,” Si stepped off the platform with ease.

“Good posture helps the clothes fit well.” He led them to a small terminal and sat them down, clicking through various screens to get an idea of what they were looking for. “Your stomach is quite flat, so I don’t think you’ll need any, hmm, camouflaging fabric there, which can also cut down on the fussiness of fastening things. Sashes and mock sashes, things like that.” He glanced at Si’s belt. “Do you prefer to wear a utility belt or not?”

“Yes.” Si grimaced as he held up a shaking hand. “Any sort of bags or pockets give me trouble but carrying them on a belt means I don’t have to carry things in my hands.”

“Okay, we’ll keep a belt in mind, and wait to see those in person, so you can find a buckle that works best for you.” He tapped a few more keys and Si’s scan came up on screen, in all his baggy-pants glory. Si winced noticeably.

“Force, I got old.” Si put on his spectacles and grimaced even more. “They didn’t torture us like this back in the day.”

The Bothan chuckled. “We don’t usually bring this out for field gear. Much fewer options. Non-duty clothing can get more complicated, especially if you are used to wearing uniforms all the time.”

“I’ve dressed in civilian clothes,” Si replied. “I just haven’t bought any recently.”

“How long ago is ‘not recently?’”

“Probably before you were born.”

Both Bes and Edro laughed. The Bothan called up different cuts of pants, looking from Si to Bes. “You don’t want it too tight, but you don’t want it flapping either. Here are some cuts I’d recommend to start us off with. Did you want something off the rack, something tailored or something custom?”

“Tailored,” Bes answered before Si could. “He has to intimidate a younger adversary.”

“Tailoring can get pricey,” Si grumbled. “I can tuck things. How do you think I got my funeral clothes to fit?”

“Tailoring usually runs five credits per item. Sometimes more if there are complicated issues, but you seem fairly normal.”

“They pay your tailors five credits _per item_?” Si looked outraged on their behalf.

“No,” the Bothan shook his head. “They are paid hourly. Good fit is so important for our field Jedi, that we have a whole fitting department and we do so much it keeps individual costs low for simple stuff and items we can give to droids. Rush jobs cost more and droids don’t take tips.”

“I took forever to convince Quinlan it was worth the extra credits after he finally stopped growing.”

“Tailored,” Si agreed after a moment.

“Badasses wear tailored clothes.”

The Bothan snickered and superimposed the pants templates over Si’s scans in order. “Hmm.”

Bes looked over the list. “No, yes, no, maybe, yes.”

Si considered it longer. “The second and the last.”

“I’d have to agree with Master Bes, try the maybe.”

“Fine.” Si’s voice was flat.

“I think it could work,” Bes looked the cut over again.

“I need to be taken seriously,” Si argued. “I need to be credible, not fashionable.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn is a trained diplomat. Showing up better dressed _and_ wearing the clothes better than he does will earn half your credibility before you even open your mouth.”

“He’s half my age.”

“Exactly.”

Si looked back at the screen with the tighter cut of pants than he had been intending. “Point taken. We’ll try them.”

“Why do you have to intimidate Master Jinn?” Edro asked, then peeked at Bes. “He really needs his clothes taken in.”

“He did something stupid in the field and is in denial,” Si grumbled.

“Master Si used to be the Battlemaster when he was younger. Jinn never beat him in the salle.”

“Ooh,” the Bothan clicked on the selection of tunics and shirts. “I get it now.”

“He hasn’t beaten Drallig since he was made Battlemaster. Unfortunately he thinks of Cin as a kid brother and not a full peer.”

“But _you_ are Master Badass. I get it. And you’ve still got all your brains and you want him to wonder, if just for a moment, if you can still take him out in the salle.”

“Yes!” Bes pumped his hands over his head. “That’s it _exactly_. That’s what his clothes need to say.”

Si shook his head. “I don’t expect you to work miracles. And we aren’t trying to attack him. Just challenge his assumptions. Aggressively.”

“And if you get some good clothes in the process, all the better.”

“Master will be thrilled,” Si rolled his eyes.

The Bothan looked confused. “ _Your_ master is still alive?”

“Master Yoda,” Si explained.

“Oh, he needs some new clothes too. Something fresh.” He started superimposing several different tunics, some over the waistband, some under.

“I gave up _that_ battle when he became Grandmaster.” Si leaned in closer. “The sleeves are too tight on those. I need a greater range of motion.”

“He had a padawan assisting him for a while back. Kept fussing about him not getting enough protein and getting him new robes.”

Si snorted. “Yes, the Duckling. He’s been knighted.”

Bes giggled, remembering Yoda’s complaints about being fattened up. “Poor young man was probably transferring his worry about Master Jinn to Master Yoda.”

“Oh, he’d probably do that anyway. Hmm, that one. That should have a good range of motion.”

“So you can take out a guard?” Bes snickered. “The cut is good, but not with a belt.”

“Good point. Ruins the drape.” Edro clicked a few more options. “But these might work. Are we looking for vests or over-tunics?”

“Layers are good.”

“I know you aren’t going for a field uniform, but are you planning on a full outer robe or did you have something else in mind? Many of the retired Jedi do still wear the traditional outer robe.”

“Go for the robe!” If Bes still had his own legs, he would have bounced in his seat.

“It’s not too much?” Si asked.

“No!” Bes remembered when he had seen Si fully decked out in the reception room, glaring at Ospen. “It completes the look and reminds him _who you are._ ”

Si raised an eyebrow. “My _voice_ won’t do that?”

“Si,” Bes tried to figure out how best to word it. “When I came in and saw you in your robe and funeral clothes, staring down Brother Ospen, for a moment I almost dropped down in contrition and apologized for being late to saber class. _Wear the robe_.”

The Bothan laughed so hard he had to blow his nose. “I take it he used to be _that_ teacher? The one nobody messed with?”

“Plenty of young hotheads messed with me.” Si shrugged. “I let their own arrogance get the better of them. Usually solved the problem.”

“ _That_ teacher,” Bes agreed. “With a lightsaber.”

“Soresu is not a technique for pushovers, but it’s excellent for making opponents underestimate you to their peril.”

“Is that why you recommend it for Kenobi?” Bes asked as the clerk called up robes and started superimposing them over the pants and shirts in different combinations.

Si leaned in, looking through his glasses. “Partly. His quiet presence at rest makes them do it already. Might as well exploit it. But he needed defense even more.” He frowned. “Go back one. Maybe with boots.” He sighed. “I should replace my robe, shouldn’t I?”

“You should probably _not_ show up in a robe you were planning to set on fire when you die.”

“I suppose I could. I brought my boots just in case I need them for fittings.”

“You’re pretty tall, so we would need to hem an extra-long, unless you wanted to wear it shorter.”

“Ankle length, with drape,” Bes tapped at the screen to show the lower hemline. “Just a hint of drama when he moves.”

“I don’t have drama when I move,” Si protested.

“He was a dancer. He has _drama_.”

The Bothan held up a hand. “Let me pull some clothes and bring them up to the dressing room. You two go have a tea and practice your intimidating face and I’ll page you shortly.” He got up and left them with a grin.

“Drama?” Si asked.

Bes looked him in the eye. “Drama. Mystique. Power.”

“I’m not a magician, Bes.” Si grumbled as he stood up and offered an arm.

“I used to be your student, Si. You were a damn sorcerer.”

Si rolled his eyes. “Come on, Style Consultant. I’ll even buy you a tea.”

* * *

The tea turned out to be complimentary for retired Jedi and for those waiting on orders. Si and Bes sat quietly, Bes suggesting colors and fabrics (and a new haircut), while Si focused on his tea and releasing his tension. They were just finishing up when their number was called to a changing room. They walked past racks of clothing and several other groups of Jedi shopping. One master was astounded by how fast his teenage padawan was outgrowing boots. Two female knights were being fitted for formal gowns, which could be for undercover work, diplomatic work, or the upcoming Senate Ball. They were actively discussing where on their persons they could carry their saber hilts or if they should just go with knives (which unfortunately did _not_ rule out the Senate Ball). A group of senior padawans seemed to be on a similar mission as Si, trying on a variety of civilian attire, trying to stretch their stipends far enough to buy club wear. One young man hurried past, muttering, “I’m kriffing color blind. How the hell do I know what to wear?”

“What are you dressing for?” Bes asked pleasantly, mostly to alert the teenager to their presence before he barreled into them.

“Oh, I’m sorry Masters.” He backed up and bowed, then stood up straight, still trying to figure out where to start. Most young Jedi had a terrible time trying to figure out civilian fashion after spending their previous lives entirely in Temple wear, even with normal vision. “We’ve all just made senior padawans and we’re trying to find appropriate clothes for a dance club.”

“Now I really feel old,” Si grumbled.

Bes laughed. “If you’re ever in doubt, wear black pants,” he advised.

“Black pants?”

“It’s a neutral color,” Si concurred. “Goes with everything. Mostly.”

The young man seemed torn between being grateful and doubting the wisdom of his less than fashionable elders. “Thanks.”

Si nodded. Bes gave him a sunny grin and they continued to their dressing room where the Bothan clerk was waiting.

“Sweet Force, I can’t even remember how many decades it’s been since I’ve been to a dance club.” Si took off his sweater, hung it on a hook, and slipped out of his shoes.

“I can.” Bes refrained from mentioning what Si had been wearing at the time.

The Bothan grinned. “I picked out several different pieces and colors with the silhouettes we looked at, and the size that should fit, but I also grabbed a size larger. Some patrons prefer a more relaxed fit. I also paged the warehouse to bring up an extra-large robe you might like the cut of, and one of the tailors is coming by to consult about alternative fastenings. Not every Jedi has fingers of course, and we’ve noticed some of our more senior patrons prefer those options.”

Si looked suspicious. “This seems an extraordinarily high level of service for one outfit.”

Edro laughed. “Alternate fastenings will raise the alteration price slightly.”

“You’ve been out of the Dip Corps too long,” Bes grinned. “This was fairly standard by the time I retired.”

Si stepped over to the Bothan, a resigned look on his face. “Let’s get on with it, then.”

“I thought we’d start with these first. Simpler cuts to see how they look.”

Si nodded. “Brace yourselves for decrepit old man,” he grumbled as he moved to pull his tunic over his head with a casual attitude toward nudity that was typical for Jedi. The clerk snorted and stepped forward to offer a hand, though Si was still limber enough to get it over his head with ease.

Bes tried not to swallow his tongue. Edro was correct. Si had lost some mass over the years, but fat had not moved in to replace muscle. All those barre routines and weight training sessions had clearly paid off; Si still had a dancer’s physique under his baggy clothes, just thinner and leaner than it had been when he had been saber-fighting and drilling most hours of the day. His thin undershirt had ridden up in the back when he had pulled off his tunic, revealing well defined back muscles and his arms under the short sleeves left no mystery why smacking him might hurt. Bes made himself look away, but his gaze only landed on a mirror showing Si from the front and Edro was right about that too. Si didn’t have a gut under those baggy tunics, he still had well-formed abdominals. Not quite chiseled anymore, but firm and clearly delineated.

 _Yoda must be a very happy man_.

Bes willed himself not to blush and busied himself with looking through the clothes while Si nonchalantly removed his pants (and his legs were possibly more well-defined than his arms). It wasn’t as if it was anything Bes hadn’t seen before, it had just been awhile since he’d been around other half-dressed persons when he wasn’t himself, and decades since he had even remotely shared locker and shower rooms with Si. There were both private, in room and communal bathing facilities in the home, due to the varying levels of assistance required by residents. Si could still bathe himself so far as Bes knew, but he did sometimes get a shampoo from Brother Folli if his hands were bad. Bes needed help in the shower because of his tendency to fall, but one of the brothers or sisters usually just helped him in and out and sat outside, chatting with him to be on the safe side. He was still capable of washing himself and frankly dreaded the day he would have to bare himself in the communal baths. Brother Ospen understood, and they had agreed on the shower buddy set up, which Bes had realized was preferable to being repeatedly found wet, scarred and naked on the fresher floor.

“There we go, very nice lines,” Edro grinned and Si turned to the mirror, frowning as he looked himself over.

“It has potential,” Si admitted while the clerk walked up to him and began adjusting the placement of the seams.

“It does.” Someone rapped at the doorframe and the Bothan waved the tailor in, nodding in approval at his box of fastenings. “Let’s have the tailor pin it up along with the other cuts and see what works best.”

“Well it’s definitely less sloppy looking already,” Si peered into the mirror, scrutinizing the pants, pulling the tunic up to see the waistband.

“Oh my,” the tailor put down the box. “Do you need a lozenge? You sound like the late Master Silvanus.”

Si slowly turned his head to stare at the tailor. Bes’s jaw dropped.

“I don’t think a lozenge is going to cure death, Sergei.”

The tailor looked up abruptly, stunned.

“Do you know Sergei, Master Si?” Edro asked.

“Not as well as I know Master Silvanus,” Si replied wryly.

“Master Silvanus,” Sergei looked mortified. “It’s been so long, I thought you had died, and they just never told us.”

“I didn’t die,” Si replied. “Not yet anyway.” He shrugged. “I’ve just outlived my wardrobe.”

Sergei came up to Si standing on the platform. “It’s been a very long time. It’s good to see you again.” He looked to the Bothan. “Master Silvanus used to come visit us quite often, between uniforms, civilian clothes, training clothes and the odd dance costume. He used to be quite the dapper dresser.”

“Dance costumes?” Edro looked amused.

“ _Those_ days are over,” Si assured them. “I’m much too old for tights and sequins.”

“Well, that will get you noticed, and you _do_ have the legs for it, but we’re supposed to be making him look like the badass he used to be, so Sergei, we need you to work your magic.”

“Heh,” Sergei stepped behind Si and adjusted the pants. “Master Si doesn’t need help being a badass, but a little tailoring won’t hurt.” He looked at Master Bes’s reflection, catching his eye in the mirror. “What do you think, Master Bes? A little tuck here and here? Not too tight, just a hint of muscle definition?”

“Yes, right there.”

Si rolled his eyes. “We’re trying to intimidate him, not seduce him with false promises.”

Sergei was measuring Si’s leg and inadvertently laughed. Old Master Silvanus was still surprisingly well-built. “I think that will work. Arms out.”

Si put his arms out straight, hands jittering, and Sergei began adjusting the tunic. “How long should we make these sleeves? What’s comfortable for your hands?”

“Full length to the wrists on tunics. I still stick them up my robe sleeves when they get bad.”

“So full sleeves on the robe, not narrow sleeves,” Sergei commented absently.

“It’s good camouflage,” Si agreed.

“Excuse me, Master?”

Bes turned to see the young, colorblind padawan peeking through the doorframe. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, are these black?” The poor young man looked rather bashful.

“Um,” Bes turned back to catch Si’s eye in the mirror. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

Si nodded. “Go mentor the young people.”

Bes slipped out of the dressing room, feeling Si was in good hands for now with someone he knew. Bes led the young man over to one of the well-lit mirrors with natural spectrum lights that corresponded to most habitable suns. “We have to check under the good lights.” He put on his glasses and held a pants leg from each garment up to the light. “Yes, yes, no. That one is a very dark blue. Good color, but not black.”

“Thanks.” The young man put the blue pants down and then looked from one remaining pair to the other. “There should be classes in this stuff.”

“There are, or their used to be,” Bes told him. “Diplomacy and undercover work both cover fashion and clothing selection. Even for dance clubs.”

“Maybe we should have waited until we took them.”

Bes chuckled. “Dance clubs for fun you sort of have to learn on your own.” He glanced at the pants. “If you’re planning on dancing and not just being seen, don’t get the super tight pants and make sure the fabric is flexible. More like exercise clothes with a little stretch.”

“You go to dance clubs?” The boy sounded more hopeful than incredulous.

“Not anymore.” Bes glanced down at his mechanical feet with a sigh. “But I used to go out to clubs a lot when I had my own legs.” He tugged at one of the pants legs. “This will be too hot. It looks sophisticated, but the fabric won’t breathe, and you’ll be soggy by the end of the night.” He felt the other one, then peeked at the label. “Wicking fabric. Much better.”

The young man handed it over, and Bes held up the pants, examining them with a practiced eye. “Yes, that’s a good basic cut. Daring enough for dance clubs, but dark enough to be dressed down if you need to.” He passed it back to the young man. “If this size fits, get one of the tailors to take it in just a bit, wherever it’s currently fashionable. Get a few shirts and you’ll be able to wear it clubbing, out to dinner, or an informal show depending on the shirt or jacket you pair with it.”

“You’re sure?” the boy asked.

“Well, you can ask Edro when he’s done with Master Si, but that’s how I stretched my credits at your age.” Bes chuckled. “Of course, that was a long time ago. I assume young people still wear pants.”

The young man snorted. “We do. Thank you, Master?”

“Master Bes.” Bes scanned around the racks, wanting to help the young man but not comfortable wandering too far in case Si needed him. “Go find a few shirts from this section that you like the cut of. We’ll figure out the color part later. I’ll be right here if you need more help, and Master Si is very good with colors too. He used to paint.”

The young man grinned. “Pleased to meet you, Master Bes. I’m Padawan Granby.” He looked over the racks, determined. “I’ll be back.”

“Good luck!” Bes smiled after him, then stepped back into the dressing room. Si was fully dressed and pinned and scowling into the mirror. Bes almost got chills.

“Well, I’m intimidated.”

“We’re still trying to sell him on the pants,” Edro reported. “He thinks they are too form fitting.”

“And the neckline is very professional, but if you wanted something less formal, we could open that up a bit,” Sergei suggested.

“If I were forty years younger and still dating, perhaps. But we’re going for professional here.”

“We can always make a second tunic more informal,” the Bothan suggested.

“No,” Si shook his head. “Though you’re a good salesman.”

“Oh, come now, Master Si,” Sergei was pinning the hem of a long robe. “Surely you’re still breaking hearts on the South Terrace.”

Si laughed outright. “Not at _my_ age. Maybe if I had retired younger instead of staying on as an instructor. Everyone still remembers what a grouchy old windbag I am.”

“Nonsense. You’ve still got your figure.” Sergei finished pinning and stood up. “You still need a good belt, but I think that will do it. Maybe some polish on your boots.”

Si glanced at his boots in the mirror. “I have trouble doing that myself.”

“The fee is small, but if you want them resoled, a polish is thrown in free,” Edro suggested.

“I’ll stop in and see if they can get it done in time,” Si turned to face Bes. “What do you think?”

“You need the belt for the full effect. Are you going to wear your lightsaber?”

Si frowned. “Do you think I need to? It’s mostly ceremonial at this point, and the damn thing is weighted, so it would have to be a sturdy belt.”

Bes looked him over carefully. “If you get the swagger right you don’t need it, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt. Even Master Nu still wears her saber.”

“Hmm,” Si frowned. “Depends on the belt. What swagger?”

“The _stalking around the Temple_ swagger. You were doing it when we came back from the first day of the vigil. The _drama walk_.”

“Bes, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was clear from his expression he really didn’t.

Bes shook his head. “Let’s get you a belt and have you walk around a bit.”

“I don’t swagger. Especially with my walking staff.”

Bes tried to keep his voice neutral. “Were you planning on bringing the walking staff?” He still hadn’t figured out what made Si decide to use the staff or leave it home on any given day.

“I haven’t decided. On the one hand it makes me look like a weak, old man. On the other hand, it holds at least one hand steady.”

“Huh.” That explained why Si preferred a longer staff to a lighter cane. “It does have a certain gravitas.”

They stepped out into the display area, heading toward the belts. Padawan Granby had been coming up to get Bes’s opinion on shirts.

“Wow, um, you look much younger, um, Master.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “Thank you, Padawan.” He stepped aside to let him consult with Bes.

“That’s amazing,” Granby was clearly stunned. “He looks ten years younger.”

Si rolled his eyes. Sergei chuckled as he shook out another pair of pants.

“How old did you think Master Si was before?” Bes asked, holding a shirt up to the young padawan’s chest. “Hmm, better for informal dinners than clubbing, pair it with a jacket.”

“I don’t know, seventy-five?”

Sergei let out quite a loud gasp of laughter. Si carefully did not react.

Bes gave the young man a thumbs up and a grateful look. “He’s a bit older than that.” He held up the next one. “This one would work for the dance clubs, maybe a size smaller, but not this color.” He held up the next one. “Better color, but hmm, I’m not sure.” He looked over at Si, who was fussing with the different buckle types, trying to see what was easiest to manage between his hands and the Force. “Si, what do you think?”

“I think he should probably ask Edro about the cut,” the belt clicked. “Ah.” He looked up at the young man, studying him over the rim of his glasses. “For the dance club?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you trying to attract?” Si asked.

“Pardon?” Granby asked.

“Who are you trying to attract? Girls? Boys? Both? Twileks?”

“Oh!” The young man bit his lip. “Um, girls, mostly.”

“Hmm,” Si nodded. “Too much. At least for your first dance club. You wear that, you’ll get mobbed. Wait until you finish growing in a year or two, _then_ wear that.”

“Oh, good point,” Bes chuckled. “I forgot you were new to this.”

“Mobbed?”

Si snorted as he gave up trying to put the belt on by hand and used the Force instead. “You’re a Jedi Padawan. Everyone in the Coruscant clubs _knows_ what the braid means, and if you are even remotely diligent in your physical studies, you’ll have the body to pull that shirt off, but not the experience to deal with the attention.”

“What about the color?”

Si leaned closer, looking over his face. “A crisp white shirt will never be wrong, but hmm, open your eyes wider.” He looked a bit more. “Deep greens will make your eyes pop. Dark browns will go well with your hair. Silver toned buttons and accessories, not gold. Goes better with your skin tone.”

“Ooh,” Bes nodded in agreement. “Good eye, Si.”

“Dark blue would also be a good color for a full suit if you need it, accented in green or gray. Get the tailors to tag your clothes for you, so you’ll know what color it is. Dedrin had to do that when he got older. Had a touch of night blindness and couldn’t differentiate the darker colors anymore. Had to have Moosie do it for him.”

“Now _that_ is a good idea.” Bes looked over the sea of racks. “Ah, they do have some good colors. You could also accessorize with a scarf or a hat.”

“Get Edro’s help with that,” Si advised. “We’re _old_.”

Bes laughed. “We are. But that’s a good start, and you can wear your boots.’

“When you have enough credits, get some ankle boots or dress shoes in black,” Si advised. “Don’t skimp on arch supports and good treads. You don’t want shoes you can’t run in or that make your feet hurt.”

Bes grinned. “If Master Si caught you in bad shoes at the clubs, he’d make you run laps in saber class the next morning.”

Granby laughed. “That’s fiendish.”

“Better to suffer and learn in the salle than in the field.” Si looked at Bes, gesturing at the belt. “Too bulky?”

Bes frowned. “No, but do they have it in other colors?”

“We can special order it in other colors,” Edro called from the dressing room. “Only three days if they have it in stock.”

“I like the pockets,” Granby commented. “I can never get a belt with enough pockets.”

“We can special order that too,” Edro replied.

“I think your problem is you don’t have a wide enough waist yet.” Si took off the belt he was wearing and tried another. “I was an absolute beanpole at your age. I was still getting belts in the Juniors Section.”

Granby snickered.

“Really?” Bes asked, disbelief in his voice. “That’s hard to imagine.”

Si rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Master still has pictures. He kept trying to stuff more crickets down my throat and fussing at my appointments with the healers. I didn’t start to bulk up until I finally stopped getting taller.”

“Ooh, that one,” Bes nodded at the latest belt Si had put on. “Good color, doesn’t bunch up the fabrics.”

“And I can put it on without the Force.”

“Useful. Will it hold up your lightsaber?” Bes asked.

“I’m not sure.” Si turned to Granby. “Can you pull down on the clip ring?”

The padawan shrugged but complied.

“A little more.”

“It’s staying in place,” Bes reported.

“Thank you, Padawan.” Si resisted the urge to straighten the sleeves, knowing there were pins in the many layers he had on. “I think we might be good.”

“Is it comfortable to walk in and sit in?” Bes asked. Si had to make an entrance, but the seminar would be done at a round table.

“It’s okay.” He walked over to a chair and carefully sat down, wearing the belt. “Not restrictive.”

“It’s a good ensemble,” Edro agreed. “I know I’d be intimidated if I used to be your student.”

“He doesn’t have the swagger yet,” Bes frowned. “He needs to have the attitude.”

“He’s almost there,” Sergei commented. “He needs more time to be comfortable in the role. Have him walk around some more.”

Si looked from Sergei to Bes. “I _still_ don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Edro looked at Sergei, unclear what was missing.

“Don’t worry, it will come back to you. Just walk up and down the aisles for a few minutes so we can be sure I didn’t pin you too tight.”

Si grumbled a bit, but complied, walking up and down the aisle.

“That’s fine for home,” Bes told him as he caught his eye. “But this is a mission, Si. You _are_ Simet Silvanus. You _are_ the former Battlemaster.” Si straightened up a bit and tried again.

Padawan Granby stopped to watch, obviously recognizing the name.

“You are matching wits with Qui-Gon Jinn. You are going in there to analyze his technique and tell him exactly what he did wrong and why he should be grateful he isn’t a pile of ash in the Memorial Hall.”

Si winced at the sentiment, but stopped, adjusted his stance and made a sterner face, then tried again.

“Getting there,” Sergei leaned against the doorframe to watch, not only the clothes, but for the return of the Master.

“You are going in there and you are going to use your mind to push back the Darkness and the _Force_ will be _with you_ because you will be _bringing it_!”

Edro stifled a laugh, knowing Master Bes was serious. Si looked a bit overwhelmed when he made his next pass.

“ _Security Alert! Security Alert!_ ”

That did it. Si stopped suddenly, alert, turning to track the emergency, his robe flaring out from the shoulders as he turned, his gaze sharp, his shaking hand automatically reaching for his lightsaber that wasn’t there.

“That’s it!” Bes cried out.

“ _Alert cancelled_.” Sergei put the loudspeaker comm back on the hook with a smirk. Edro looked over Si critically, while Granby stared in awe.

Si crossed his arms carefully (pins) and glared at the lot of them. Bes was obviously elated.

“The Master has returned,” Sergei declared.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Si raised an eyebrow and Granby gulped.

“He looks annoyed.”

“That’s just his resting face,” Bes assured him. “Do you think he can take you out in the salle?”

“Yes,” Granby nodded. “He’s like Master Drallig. But with . . . with,”

“A flair of drama.” Bes’s eyes were shining.

“I don’t have drama,” Si protested.

“It’s good drama,” Edro told him. “Not hysterical drama. Elegance and style and well-honed instincts.”

“I live in the rest home.”

“And you still have what it takes,” Sergei argued. “You just forgot about it since you weren’t using it.” The tailor smiled. “Come on, let’s get these sent to Alterations and pin up a few more pants and shirts. I know you like having back-ups.”

“I still don’t think I have drama,” Si grumbled as he followed Sergei into the dressing room.

Bes winked at Padawan Granby. “Drama.”

“So that’s Master Silvanus?” Edro came up to Bes and Granby. “I’ve heard stories, but we all thought he was quite dead.”

“Si doesn’t leave the home much. His hands make things difficult, but we’re trying to get him out more.”

“He’s very good with color. Sergei told me he did the painting on the far wall.” Erdo pointed to a large canvas depicting a group of young padawans around Granby’s age, dressed up in civilian clothes for a night out, all bright smiles, sparkling eyes and well-tailored clothes. Jayzen grinned from the center of the group.

“That one in the middle with the striped shirt was Master Si’s first padawan. He passed into the Force a few years ago. He was almost seventy-eight.”

“What’s in his ear?” Granby asked.

“Hearing aid. He lost part of his hearing when he was a child in the creche. Couldn’t hear higher frequencies, including most speaking voices, but Master Si’s voice is so deep he could hear him, even without the hearing aid. Master Yoda said they made a good pair.”

“Is Master Silvanus challenging Master Jinn in the salle?” Granby asked.

“No,” Master Bes laughed. “Neither one of them should be in the salle, but Master Jinn has a fair chance of returning. Master Si is challenging him in a master’s seminar, but we should probably keep that quiet. He’s doing it as a favor to Master Drallig.”

“And he’s going to look good doing it,” Edro clapped his hands together. “And what about you, Master Bes? Master Si said you wanted to find something for an outing?”

Bes shrugged. “You know me, I’ll probably just look.”

“Yes, but you always have such good suggestions for our other patrons.” Edro grinned at Granby. “He does my job better than me half the time.”

“I don’t, really.”

“If he weren’t a retired Jedi, I think he would have been a professional dresser or shopper for the rich and powerful.”

Bes laughed. “I’ve just been to too many diplomatic parties for one person.”

“I’m just glad we can wear our regular clothes to those,” Granby sighed.

“Oh, that’s would be boring,” Edro retorted. “Which reminds me, we got in a new line, and I think you’ll just love it, Bes. I know you have an eye for quality workmanship and style. I’ll be right back.” Edro dashed down the aisle toward the more stately styles of dress. Granby patiently waited for an available tailor or seamstress to fit him, puzzling over the padawans dressing up for the same kind of outing half a century ago. So far as he could tell they could have passed today.

“Here it is!” Edro was coming back with something long and mostly black. “When they unpacked these, I thought of you right away.” He swept the dark frock coat up in front of Bes. It was made in a deep black, velvety material with elaborate, jewel-toned embroidery spilling down the long lapels, along the hemline and the cuffs. It was bright and colorful without being flamboyant, the conservative cut making it tasteful and modest enough for a diplomatic reception, or a meal at a fancy restaurant. The craftsmanship was excellent.

“Oh, Edro, that’s beautiful, but where on Coruscant would I wear that?”

“Master Si said you were going to an art opening?”

Bes rolled his eyes, but they soon returned to the coat. “Oh, it’s an art preview. Social event for us old people ahead of the official opening. The opening is for the rich and famous. The preview is for the old and retired. And for the critics to actually see the work without all those uninterested celebrities blocking it.”

“And won’t you want to look good while you’re there?” Edro smiled. “At least try it on and tell me what you think. You know that Clothing Procurement still values your opinion.”

“You really are a style consultant?” Granby asked, wide-eyed.

“No,” Bes laughed. “Not officially.”

Edro grinned. “He was an excellent diplomat and often a very well-dressed one. Or so the other masters say.”

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try it on, I suppose.” Bes let Edro lead him back to the dressing room. “But you know I can’t afford this, Edro.”

“I know. I also know that imagining who we could be in the clothes is half the fun.” He waved for Granby to join them. “Sergei should be finishing up with Master Si soon.”

When they entered the dressing room, Si had changed into a second set of pants, tunic and vest and Sergei was making the necessary alterations. Erdo led Bes over to the adjacent mirror and helped him out of his jacket, then into the frock coat, doing up the buttons with ease. “It’s too colorful to say ‘Jedi,’ but it suits you well.”

Bes looked himself over in the mirror, intentionally not looking below the hemline at his feet. He stood up a little straighter. “It is lovely. Very comfortable.” He moved his arms, checking the degree of motion, then turned slightly, looking at the coat from different angles. “The buttons are a bit plain.”

“They are,” Edro agreed. “I think they wanted to shade it a bit more conservative, keep it more versatile, but those buttons should pop out more.”

“Maybe brass buttons,” Bes suggested. “Make them shine.”

“Oh, yes,” Edro agreed. “For some people brass buttons would be over the top, but I think it would work for you.”

“What do you think, Si? Brass buttons?”

Si turned to look at Bes, still admiring the coat in the mirror. “Turn around.”

Bes complied.

Si looked him over carefully, examining the colors on the coat, as well as Bes’s skin tones, eye color and facial tattoo. “I’d go with copper buttons.”

Bes turned back to the mirror, thinking it over. “Copper.”

“It fits with the colors on the coat well, but still pops against the black. It also contrasts well if you keep the copper color sharp or blends in with the embroidery if it develops a patina. And it goes well with your eyes and Qukuuf.”

“Qukuuf?” Edro asked quietly.

Bes pointed to his face. “Clan markings.” He was a bit surprised Si knew the native term. He looked back in the mirror.

Edro pulled a shiny copper coin out of his pocket and held it up against the black coat. “Oh, that _does_ pop.”

“Oh, it _does_ ,” Bes agreed. “Yes, copper buttons would be perfect on this. Good suggestion, Si.”

“It looks very fine on you, Master Bes. You look like a diplomat and a gentleman.”

“It _is_ beautiful,” Bes gave the sleeve one more pet before facing reality. “But it’s much too fancy for anywhere I’m going.”

“Not even the art preview?” Edro asked.

“No,” Bes shook his head. “I should save my credits for more practical things. But it _is_ beautiful and is an excellent choice for dressing up the diplomats.” He sighed. “I’m sure it will serve well at a future ball or treaty signing, or if we have to dress a refugee prince before a Senate hearing.”

“I’ll let the Procurement and Sales staff know about your recommendations.”

Bes gave himself one more longing look in the mirror, then began carefully unbuttoning the coat. Si caught Sergei’s eye in the mirror.

“Can I see the coat?” the tailor asked. Edro finished putting it back on the hanger and brought it over. “Hmm, yes, we _do_ have some very fine copper buttons in stock that are the right size and would do nicely. Leave the coat, please. I want to put the recommendation into the alternations system, so the droids know which ones to use if we get requests. You have to take care to use the right kind with this fabric.”

Bes grinned at Si. “That was fun. Do you need any more help?”

“I think I’m finished,” Si was bending his limbs, testing Sergei’s fitting. “I need to change and settle up my bill if your new Style Padawan still needs help.”

Bes snorted. Sergei indicated Granby should change into his selected clothes.

“Oh, yes, you had a good shirt in the wrong color!”

“Get your pants fitted,” Edro chuckled. “Come on, Master Bes, let’s get him a better shirt.”

Si shook his head as Sergei helped him out of the clothes without sticking himself.

“Shall I put on the copper buttons then?” Sergei asked quietly.

“Hmm, yes. You can add it to my tab. But can you include a set of brass ones in case he likes that better?”

Sergei smiled. “Of course. I know Master Bes is skilled enough to change them out if he likes.”

“Thank you, Sergei.”

“Thirty-two thousand credits? Really?”

Si rolled his eyes as he got back into the clothes had come in with. “Thirty-two thousand, minus a wardrobe update and an elegant frock coat.”

Sergei laughed. “I think you’re still in the black.” His face grew serious. “Please don’t stay away so long.”

“I’m trying. I’ve been in my own little home for so long it’s hard to come back out.”

“Are _you_ going to the art preview as well?”

Si rolled his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Master. I wasn’t planning to, but if I do, I will at least have something to wear.” He frowned. “That reminds me. I’ll have to ask if he still gets his underwear from Stores.”

Sergei laughed. “The only thing Master Yoda doesn’t get from Stores are those walking sticks he likes to chew on.”

“He needs to lay off on those,” Si sighed. “Would it be possible to look up his size and send him a pack? I know that’s an odd request.”

Sergei shrugged. “Not the oddest. What do you get the Grandmaster who has everything?”

“Someone else already bought him crickets.”

Finally in his new pants, Padawan Granby tried not to imagine Master Yoda’s underwear.

* * *

Master Yoda slowly landed his hoverchair outside his quarters, puzzled by the delivery he hadn’t been expecting. He sensed no danger in the Force, perhaps it was something that had been out of stock?

He pushed the hoverchair into the charging dock, then retrieved the package and took it inside. It contained a pack of brand-new underwear (in his preferred size and custom cut) and a large piece of paper. He unfolded the sheet to find a note in what he immediately recognized as Si’s tortured handwriting, so unlike the elegant script of his younger years.

_Master,_

_Apparently had scrip acct._

_Can now buy own underwear._

_~~Apolog~~ [inkblot]_

_Sorry, Simet_

It had been a while since Obi-Wan had restocked his wardrobe staples. One could never have too many pairs of underwear. He put them in the laundry bin, then promptly sent out a thank you note.

* * *

Si was enjoying a cup of cold herbal tea with Bes and Wallace on the South Terrace when he spied Sister Gabby making her way across the grass toward him. It was after dinner hour and there was still a bright glow in the western skies, but running lights were shining on the aircars overhead and small solar lanterns in the garden were beginning to glow.

He frowned when Gabby came up to him, handing him a folded sheet of printer flimsy. He carefully grasped it in a slightly steadier hand (he used to paint during this time of day as the shaking was less pronounced, back when he still could) and put on his reading glasses.  
  
“Sister, you don’t need to bring me messages this late. I’m not important enough anymore.”

“It’s from the Grandmaster.” Gabby’s face was stern. “I don’t decide what the Grandmaster thinks is important.”

Si raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea before unfolding the sheet, quite sure that if his master had anything that vital to tell him, he would have just called him directly, no matter the hour. (Strong as he was in the Force, Si probably would have been up anyway).

Both Bes and Wallace startled at the bizarre sound of former Battlemaster Simet Silvanus shooting tea out of his nose, then violently blowing said nose to clear it.

Gabby remained stoic.

_Si-Chib,_

_Thank you I do for the gift of new underwear. To good use I will put it, covering the wrinkled green butt that I have. So glad that scrip account discovered you have. Responsible you must be. Seventeen years a long time to build savings is. Spend it on hookers and ryll you will not._

_Buying your own underwear now you are. Find something else for your birthday now I must. Sexy underwear buy you I should? Need it you might, still stud you are_ _,_

_Yoda_

Si looked up at Sister Gabby, mortified. “I am so sorry, Sister Gabby. I think Master may have forgotten you deliver my messages.”

“Fortunately for you and Master Yoda, I wasn’t always a nun,” she scowled at him. “Master _Si-Chib_.”

Si tucked the note into a pocket of his sweater. “I’ll remind him again.”

“See that you do,” Sister Gabby gave Si one more glare before she turned and walked back toward the nun’s dorm. “Goodnight, Masters.”

“Goodnight, Sister Gabby. Thank you.”

When Si looked back at his companions, Bes was valiantly fighting giggles.

“Si-Chib?”

Si wiped his nose again, though it was clear. “That was what Master called me when I was _twelve_.”

Wallace giggled loudly.

“Master’s thank you note was a little risqué,” Si rolled his eyes, pulled out his comm and tapped in the code to Yoda’s personal message service with the Force, waiting for the beep to speak. “You _asshole_.” He disconnected.

Wallace giggled again. Even Bes found this hilarious.

“I would never have thought Master Yoda would be risqué.”

“Oh, he is our wise Grandmaster and role model, but he spends a healthy amount of time with his mind in the gutter.” Si sighed. “I’m glad I’m someone he feels close with. I just felt bad for Sister Gabby having to deliver messages for dirty old men.”

Bes burst out laughing, unable to help himself.

“I take it Master has thoroughly destroyed the pure pedestal of chastity you put him on?”

Bes was still chuckling. “He’s always been so polite. And an authority figure.”

“And old.” Si shook his head. “He understands that most people think he is too old to still have physical desires, but he was surprised you thought he was a vowed celibate. That is a definite _no_.”

“When did you realize it?” Bes asked, curious.

“When I was about fourteen and he was arranging ‘sleepovers’ for me.” Si rolled his eyes. “He was worried I’d sense something through our training bond if we were in the same apartment.”

Bes snorted. His own master had been dating a knight who didn’t have a padawan for most of his apprenticeship, so it hadn’t been an issue for them.

“Eventually my friends and I would opt to camp out in the Barracks on our own.” Si laughed at himself. “We even did it once when we were senior padawans because we were feeling nostalgic. The Quartermaster thought we were strange.”

“Master Yoda didn’t think you’d sense anything after you were an adult?” Bes assumed Yoda would not want to make his young padawan uncomfortable, and a senior padawan would probably be able to shield better, but both Yoda and Si were so strong in the Force, it would be difficult to be completely discreet.

“Oh, he _knew_ I’d sense something,” Simet scoffed, sipping at his tea again. “We had a very deep training bond, there was no way to hide it. But after S-training, he left it up to me if I wanted to stay or leave. He always let me know ahead of time. I would have given him the same courtesy, but none of my padawan lovers could stomach the idea of Master Yoda knowing when they were having sex.”

Bes started laughing all over again, trying to imagine it. Wallace giggled as well, though more quietly.

“I never bothered to tell them I’d already told my master who I was spending my evening with, and try as I might, he would most definitely notice.”

“That sounds like a mood killer,” Bes managed to get out.

“They never seemed to realize their own masters probably knew too,” Si shrugged. “Of course if _I_ were sleeping with Master, we didn’t need to be concerned about scheduling.”

Bes looked up at Si in surprise. “You’ve been in a sexual relationship with Master Yoda since you were a padawan?”

Si fortunately looked more amused than he had the last time they had been discussing his sex life. “Not continuously.”

Wallace giggled and played with the condensation on his glass.

“We certainly had a relationship as it was during S-training and we opted to continue that closeness, though not exclusively, for the rest of my apprenticeship. We stopped when I threw myself into the traveling knight lifestyle, although we certainly socialized together.” Si thought back, going through old memories. “There was a time in my late twenties, when I left the Dip Corps and I ended up turning to Master for comfort and support. It was only for a few years and was over long before Master took on Yan, who was both prudish _and_ possessive. I don’t pretend to understand their relationship. We may have had the odd night here and there over the years, but we weren’t really close like that again until after Chenna passed into the Force and he thought I wasn’t taking care of myself.”

“Chenna?” Bes asked. “Master Coorlis?” Bes remembered her from his upper level Diplomacy Courses. She had taught pairs dancing (court dances, ballroom, and club dancing for undercover work). He did recall that she had sometimes recruited Si for demonstrations and recorded clips, and had danced with him in performances, but he had no idea they had been intimates.

“She was a very good friend,” Si’s tone was slightly melancholy, but it was clear these were fond memories. “She also never complained when my hands went bad, even when _I_ did.”

“I remember the two of you dancing together,” Bes smiled at the memory. “One time she saw you walking by and practically dragged you into the studio because her regular teaching assistant had busted a knee and said you’d have to do even though you were so damn tall.”

Si frowned, trying to remember, then laughed heartily. “Oh, I had forgotten that. That was _not_ planned.”

“We students were debating whether it was all an act or if it was spontaneous. I thought you looked genuinely surprised.”

Si laughed harder, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes. “We had never pair danced together before. We’d taken classes and workshops together, but not ballroom-style dancing. I was frantically trying to get out of it, and she was telling me to quit whining, she had seen me waltz before and knew I knew how.”

“You danced together very well,” Bes assured him.

“She was very talented,” Si agreed. “I told her I would be happy to assist in the future as my schedule allowed but to let me know ahead of time.”

“Is that when the two of you got together?” Bes asked.

“No,” Si shook his head. “That was several years later.”

Wallace giggled again. “Master Coorlis was a little dense.”

“Wallace!” Bes turned around to scold him. “That isn’t nice.”

“It was true,” Si nodded. “She always kept it very professional, so I just assumed that was how she saw me. Then one day, years later, she stormed into my office, slammed the door behind her and demanded to know if I was gay.”

“Oh my,” Bes laughed again. “What did you tell her?”

“The truth. No.”

Wallace laughed harder. “Master spilled the beans.”

Bes glanced back at Wallace. “ _Your_ master told her?”

“It wasn’t a secret,” Si shrugged. “I didn’t tend to brag about my conquests, but she had apparently assumed I only flirted with women and didn’t sleep with them.”

“And _then_ you got together?” Bes asked.

“No,” Si was almost laughing at the memory. “I asked if this was for a survey without ever looking up from my data screen and she realized the whole thing was rather ridiculous and left. We ended up dancing together in a recital a few months later which got things back to normal and became lovers soon after that.” He smiled faintly. “Apparently she had wanted to for a while.”

“You didn’t know?” Bes asked, surprised Si wouldn’t have noticed.

“We all have our blind spots.”

Wallace snickered again. Bes tried to remember if he had ever confided his long-standing crush to Wallace when he had been well and would have remembered it.

“Why did she think you were gay?” Bes asked. “I mean I was only a student and I always thought you were bisexual. I can’t remember a time when I thought otherwise.”

“I am.” Si put down his tea and leaned back into the chaise. “I’ve never had a gender preference. Of course I got my S-training from a lizard, so that could be why. Or not. But you used to see me out at the clubs and at art events. I never tended to make a public display with any partner I was with, but I certainly wasn’t going to hide it. I was regularly out with dates of both genders.”

“And criticizing shoes!” Wallace added.

“It only took you three times to learn, Wallace.”

“Please, no more laps, Master Silvanus,” Wallace replied in falsetto. Bes snorted, not used to Wallace making jokes.

“Chenna saw me in dance workshops, where I tended to turn down many of the semi-professional female ballet dancers. She assumed if I didn’t want young, fit ballerinas, I must be gay.”

“Why didn’t you?” Bes asked. As Battlemaster, Si was a bit of a celebrity even outside the arts community back then, and in the clubs, there was never a shortage of beautiful people flirting with him.

“They were ridiculously young and always felt like they were starving.” He sat up and stretched. “Male dancers tended to be a bit older and very diet conscious as opposed to having disordered eating. So among the ballet crowd, I might have appeared to be gay.” He leaned over and touched his toes and Bes wondered if he could still dance, even if he couldn’t spar.

“Well, Gentlemen, I’m heading off to bed.” He used the Force to send his cup to the dirty bin on the tea cart, then stood up and stretched again. “Thank you very much for your help today, Bes. Did you want help getting up before I go?”

Bes smiled. “You’re welcome. And no, thank you. Brother Reese will be along soon to get Wallace to bed, so I’ll stay until then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Bes, Wallace.” Si walked out of the Terrace, still without his staff and Bes pondered it more, wondering if perhaps he just had good days and bad days. Beside him, Wallace hummed a tune, which he usually did when he was trying to keep a thought in his head. Tonight it was a creche song. Bes hoped it wouldn’t get stuck in his head too. Eventually Wallace reached the end of the verse and the chorus.

“Is Simet gone?” he asked.

“Yes,” Bes patted his hand. “He’s gone to bed, Wallace. You’ll be going to bed in fifteen minutes.”

“He’s still blind, Bes,” Wallace squeezed the Kiffar’s fingers gently to emphasize the point.

“Blind?” Bes asked.

“He doesn’t know that you love him. Never figured it out.”

Bes was quiet as Wallace started humming again.

“You should tell him, Bes. Even Si and Yoda won’t live forever.”

“Is Si sick?” Bes had been very worried since Si had started talking about dying so casually. “Or depressed?”

Wallace blinked hard and lost the tune, losing his previous thought and now having no memory he had ever had it. He could answer the question but had lost the context.

“No,” Wallace frowned. “His depression ages him, but he’s not dying and not always depressed. It won’t kill him directly. A Sith will.”

 _Cin would be killed by a Sith_. Bes felt his blood run cold. “A Sith will kill him?” _Force, how many were there out there?_

“Well, he should have known that one-hundred-twenty is far too old to take on a damn Sith, but he was the Battlemaster. He’ll die before he lets a Sith kill us. Won’t matter in the end though.”

“One-hundred-twenty?”

Wallace blinked hard. “Hmm?”

“Si is going to live to one-hundred-twenty?”

“Oh, Si’s going to live a little longer than that. He’ll have the party, but Yoda will miss it. He has to lead his troops with Master Kenobi.”

“But Si will be at least one-hundred-twenty when the Sith kills him?”

“Yes,” Wallace’s face grew unbearably sad. “The Sith will kill Cin first. Si will know it’s futile, but he wants others to escape.”

“Does Si know this now?”

Wallace frowned, having trouble with the present. “Si can’t see that clearly, but he can feel the danger.” He thinks Yoda is too overconfident.” Wallace blinked hard, then yawned. “Should I be tired?”

“Yes, it’s almost bedtime.” Brother Reese came out of the monk’s dorms and began walking across the grass. Bes tried to calm his adrenaline response, not wanting to worry the monk and set Wallace up for a bad night’s sleep.

“Come now, Master Clearing. It’s time to wash up for bed.”

“Okay,” Wallace stood up, then offered a hand to help Bes get up too. “Is Cin home safe? I can’t remember if he called.”

“Cin is already in bed, Master Clearing,” the monk assured him. “He said goodnight.”

“Okay.” Wallace took Brother Reese’s hand and followed him to his room.

Bes watched them go, wondering if Wallace understood on some level that Reese was lying to him, but also knowing through the Force that the monk could be trusted to care for him. Bes sighed. Even after decades, Wallace still asked every night if Cin got home safe.

Bes slowly walked back to his room, not sure what to do with this new information. He should tell someone, part of him wanted to discuss it with Si, but the idea of telling Si about his apparently distant and gruesome death did not seem like a good idea. He supposed he could talk to Yoda about it (Yoda _did_ seem keenly aware of Wallace’s Force insights), but this wasn’t the sort of think to discuss over tea and Breggle.

He glanced down at his desk as he entered his room, wanting to write it all down before he muddled the details. His eyes landed on a small card sitting on his blotter, and he felt a strong urge from the Force. He picked it up and realized it was the contact number for Master Yoda’s assistant, Eller.

_The woman who made Yoda’s appointments._

This felt right. This was something Yoda needed to know. Bes sat down at his desk and carefully replayed the conversation in his mind before transcribing it, starting when Si had left and ending when Wallace had, despite the potentially embarrassing parts.

Bes sighed. If Wallace knew about his crush on Si, he was sure it wouldn’t be news to Master Yoda. He put the notes and the card in the center of his desk and place his comm beside it, all ready for the morning. He reached for the Force again, and it still felt right.

 _Yoda needed to know_.

With a grunt, he got up and went to change and brush his teeth before bed. He looked at his old, tired face in the mirror, seeing every wrinkle, stress line, old scar and his fading tattoos. He hadn’t asked Padawan Granby to guess _his_ age.

“Oh, Wallace. He’s not _that_ blind.” He snapped off the light and shuffled toward his own cold bed.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Master Yoda woke up as was his wont, and decided to check his messages. There were a few updates on Council business, some personal correspondence, some automatic notices. There was a new voice message from Simet and he laughed at the familiar exasperated tone, hearing the love under the insult. Simet’s birthday was in just a few months. Silk boxers would not be amiss. His former padawan would need nice underwear. Bes was proving to be a very slow conquest and lounging around naked might be too aggressive.

There was one more message in his personal account, a reply to his earlier thank you note to Simet. He opened the message.

_Grandmaster Yoda,_

_He shot tea out his nose._

_May the Force be with you._

_Sister Gabby_

_[Image attached.]_

It was an excellent mid-action shot. Despite retiring as a nun, Gabbeline still retained her talents in espionage. Yoda saved the image as his screen background, chuckled quietly, then went off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about hermaphrodites: I know that term is no longer used for humans and the proper term is intersex. It is still a term used in biology and in this story Reeft's master is from a species for which the term is applicable.
> 
> So, I hope you weren't too bored by Si and Bes's shopping excursion and meeting some more of the non-Jedi laypeople who work in the Temple. Any thoughts about Si's art sales? Bes's mentoring? Wallace's past and insights? Yoda's teasing? Let me know. 
> 
> There isn't a lot of action and adventure in this fic, but Obi-Wan will at least manage to get off Coruscant in the next chapter.


	16. Part XVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Bant talk, Bes goes about his day and gets a delivery, Si uses his diplomatic skills, and Bes is pleasantly surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from _Haven't Met You Yet_ , recorded by Michael Buble.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1AJmKkU5POA
> 
> So apparently the very slow burn is getting to some of you. (I did say Centrailia, PA kind of slow burn. The former town of Centrailia has been burning since 1962. You were warned). ;)
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centralia%2C_Pennsylvania
> 
> We had a guest in the sandbox. Julie Behrens wrote a short piece about Si and Bes that fits between Part XV and XVI (so before this next part). It's a lovely little delight.
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887279
> 
> This chapter has . . . some interesting things. Heed warnings.
> 
>  **WARNING:** Alien and human/alien sex. Frank talk about sex. Alien sex orgy. Sex between young adults and authority figures in an educational context (S-training).

_I'm not surprised, not everything lasts,_

_I've broken my heart so many times_

_I stopped keeping track._

_Talk myself in, I talk myself out_

_I get all worked up_

_Then I let myself down._

_I tried so very hard not to lose it_

_I came up with a million excuses_

_I thought I'd thought of every possibility._

\--Amy Foster-Gilies, Alan Chang, Michael Buble, “Haven’t Met You Yet”

“Are you okay, Obi-Wan? You look a little pale.” Bant settled down on a fallen log, then looked across the campfire at her friend.

“I’m fine, Bant. Just damp and muddy.” He had stripped off his boots and socks and was attempting to dry them by the fire, making the best possible use of the solid ground they had managed to find.

“Did you get any water in your mouth?” she asked, anxious.

“No. Just water from the canteen.” He smiled to reassure her, understanding why she was worried. “How much further do we have to go?”

“It’s always hard to say in swamplands,” Bant frowned at the map. “But I think we can make it by tomorrow night. Maybe by the afternoon if we’re lucky.” She looked him over as he finished cleaning his feet, then put on his last pair of clean socks and his other pair of now dry, but very stiff boots. “How is the lightsaber?”

He pulled his multi-crystal hilt off his belt. It fired up on the first try. “Still good.” He powered it down so the light would not attract insects. “Are you okay? All this silt can’t be good for your skin and gills.”

“I’m okay, but I’m really looking forward to a bath when we get to the Clan Homestead.”

“Me too,” Obi-Wan pulled a ration bar out of his pack and began chewing on it. “A bath and cup of hot tea.”

“And a bed indoors.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “We’re clearly getting soft in our advanced age.”

Bant laughed, a gurgling sound. “Swamps are neither solid ground, nor open water, but have the worst of both. I think we can be forgiven for not enjoying the experience.”

“At least the company is good.” Obi-Wan looked up at the stars above. They were on a mid-rim world, not facing the galactic core, but despite the slightly miserable conditions on the ground, the sky was clear, and the star-scape was spectacular.

“I saw Master Jinn last week. He stopped by while I was visiting Master Tahl.” Bant’s tone was cautious.

“I hope everything was civil.”

“It was cordial. I didn’t mention you in conversation.”

“I suspect he’s done very well at forgetting I exist,” Obi-Wan looked to the sky for galactic landmarks, even though there had been nothing wrong with their ship when they had left it.

“He didn’t talk about you either. He talked about Anakin. He’s been trying to find someone to take him on as a padawan.”

“Training the Chosen One is an intimidating prospect. I’m just glad I got out of doing it.”

“Are you thinking of training a padawan?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Not right now. I think I might when I’m older, but . . . I don’t think I have all the skills I’d need to train an apprentice, and my Living Force abilities are still rather abysmal.”

“Is that why the Council sent you here, to this lush, swampy world? So you could feel the Living Force?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I just assumed my name was plucked from a hat, and then they sent you to make sure I don’t drown.”

Bant tossed a pebble at him, then rolled her eyes. “I know you can swim, Obi. You look awkward doing it, but you _can_ swim.”

“My species did not evolve for elegant swimming.” He sighed. “What about you? Am I going to be an uncle to a new, young apprentice?”

Bant ducked her head. “I’ve been looking in on the aquatic initiates. Nothing yet, the Force has only urged me to look but . . . I think it will be soon. Maybe after Spawn Run.” She picked up a stick and turned it over in her hands, picking at the bark to feel the smooth wood underneath. “You don’t feel it?”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head. “I’m still too full of my own issues to raise a child. Therapy has been helping me to understand that my apprenticeship was very dysfunctional, and to accept that much of that wasn’t my fault, but that doesn’t give me the tools to do better.” He sighed. “I may never take an apprentice. I may never be able to. The Force isn’t urging me to. I think that might disappoint Master Yoda, but he hasn’t been suggesting I look at the initiates, so I suspect he would agree about my shortcomings.”

Bant frowned at him. “Did you ask him?”

“No.” Obi-Wan stretched, then pulled his hood over his head to keep out the evening chill. “I know I’m not ready now, and we speak often enough that Master Yoda would know I am not ready, so there is no need to bring it up specifically. The question is whether or not I’ll ever be ready.”

“What would you need to learn to be ready?” Bant asked.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long time. “To balance love and attachment. To love someone in a healthy, balanced way, where it isn’t one-sided and hopeless. And some more practical skills.” He didn’t elaborate.

Bant looked at her friend intently, but he was staring into the fire. “Maybe Master Yoda should be your role model in that. I know it’s not the same or as deep as your relationship with Master Jinn, but it is definitely healthier emotionally.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Still too much baggage. I don’t want to make a padawan carry it too.”

“Are you dating anyone?” Bant asked, trying to change the subject.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “No.”

“Oh, Obi. Why not? I know you’re very attractive for a human.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, sighing. “I don’t want to.”

Bant’s voice grew quiet, serious. “Are you still hoping Master Qui-Gon will take you back?”

“No.” Obi-Wan gave her a sharp look. “He didn’t want me in the first place.”

Before he had been knighted, Bant would have protested a statement like that as Obi-Wan just thinking negatively but what little her former master had let slip about Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon made it sound as if it was probably a little _too_ accurate.

“You’re still socializing with Carlin and Vos.”

“Platonically. Besides, they are quite happy with each other.”

“What about that Togruta?”

“Kani? Lesbian.”

“The squirrely guy who was designing ship controls?”

“Jitters? He has more social anxiety that I do. He also seems to be more interested in females. And droids.”

“He wants to sleep with droids?”

“No, he just gets along better with them than with humans.”

“What about that cute guy your neighbors were gushing about? The one who lived two doors down?”

“He joined the monastery.”

She gave him a disbelieving look.

“I’m not kidding,” he shrugged. “It was all he ever wanted to talk about with me, and he only talked to me at all because I had met some of the monks and nuns during the vigil.”

“Have you tried holonet sites?” That tended to work out well for humanoids who looked good in holopics.

“No. I told you, Bant. I don’t want to.”

She slumped a little. “I’m sorry for pushing, Obi. It’s just, it’s been two years and being a Jedi never gets easier and you seem lonely. You were lonely when you were a padawan and neither of us could do anything to change it and now that you’re a knight, nothing is different.”

“Some things are different.”

“What things?” she asked.

Obi-Wan sighed. She could just see his bearded chin and nose peeking out from under his hood. “I’m not trying to please him or be perfect for him. I’m not spending my nights nitpicking over what I did wrong, trying to figure out why I wasn’t good enough or hoping I wouldn’t be tossed out on my ass if I didn’t meet his standards. I don’t go to bed every night knowing I will never be good enough to not be a waste of my master’s time and talents.”

“Obi-Wan, you weren’t a waste.”

“To him I was, Bant. I was a placeholder. A low-risk, low-talent assistant to keep the Council off his back until the Force decided to gift him with someone better.”

“Obi-Wan, that’s your insecurities talking. You’re supposed to work that poodoo out with Master Vygor.”

“We have been.”

“Why do you even think that? You’re a kriffing knight now.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long time. “He told me so.”

Bant looked at him, stricken.

“Opioids loosen lips, Bant. He told me how he felt. I didn’t imagine it.” He curled in on himself. “The waste of time thing isn’t new, but Anakin just . . . just kicked it into overdrive. It was as if . . . as if this boy was what he had always been waiting for and now finally he knew his true Force-ordained purpose and I had served my role of keeping him in practice and could I please show myself out?”

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” her mouth trembled with emotion. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought it was true. What was there to say?” He turned his head to look at the fire. Bant was surprised he wasn’t crying. “Master Yoda was a bit more encouraging.”

Bant thought that was probably a massive understatement, but she wasn’t sure if it was a weak joke or if Obi-Wan couldn’t fully accept the discrepancy.

“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Bant’s eyes were sad.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I tried to hide it. I eventually accepted that I would never be good enough for him, but I hoped I’d be good enough to be a knight.” He sighed. “I feel I am. Master Yoda does not seem to be disappointed in me.” He frowned. “Master Jinn seemed stunned that I’ve managed to be a functional adult who can work independently.”

“Knight Jerrold said you impressed Master Qui-Gon in the garden.”

“With Breggle?” Obi-Wan scoffed. “That’s not going to save the galaxy.”

Bant snorted. “Kressa said you can use it in combat. Maybe it will.”

Obi-Wan was quiet, while the fire continued to crackle. “He didn’t say I was a waste of time all the time. He usually only said so if he was stressed, or if he felt I was underperforming, or if he had been drinking. When I was on probation, he used to remind me of my status to keep me in line, to make sure I didn’t have a violation.”

“We _all_ had violations. Even Siri.”

“I know. But none of you could be turned out of the Order if you collected too many.” He reached for his bedroll, spreading it on the ground. “When the probation was lifted, he started talking about sunk costs. That he had already invested so much time and effort and how I should be doing better than I was if I ever hoped to become a knight.” He was quiet for another long time. “I only found out later that by withholding important training he didn’t expect I would pass my Trials.”

Bant looked flabbergasted, but some of Tahl’s comments were making sense. “Did Master Yoda teach you instead?”

Obi-Wan let out a bitter laugh. “No. The Council decided facing a Sith in battle without dying or turning to the Dark Side of the Force made up for the lack of training in emotional control.”

Bant frowned at him. Obi-Wan was such a controlled person by nature, despite his occasional hot temper and sharp tongue, she couldn’t imagine what essential training Qui-Gon Jinn could have skipped.  
  
“Well, I still think you’re a fine knight and that you’d be a good master. And if you know you’re not ready now, it’s a good sign, rather than assuming you are ready and making a mistake.”

“I think I’m too cold to be a master. Like Dooku.”

Bant cut her large silver eyes to him. “Obi, no one is as cold as Count Dooku.” She shuddered. “You can be stuffy and withdrawn, but he takes it to a new level. He actively tried to drive people away.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’m prickly. I don’t trust easily. I can be condescending and sarcastic. I’m insecure. And socially awkward. Not good for a padawan, nor a love interest.”

“You hold yourself to very high standards. You are very loyal when you do give your trust, but you don’t trust blindly. You have a good sense of humor. I think you’ll be a padawan uncle soon. I give you permission to practice on mine until you get one of your own.”

“You’ll be a very good master, Bant.”

“Does Yoda still ask you to open spar for the initiates?”

“Yes. They think I’m much more boring now that I’m making the switch to Soresu.”

Bant pressed her mouth closed, the Mon Calamari version of a smirk. “He’s not making you look at the initiates. He’s showing the initiates _you_.”

“What?” Obi-Wan looked confused.

“He’s showing you off to _them_. He knows _you’re_ not ready yet, but he’s introducing you to the younger ones as a capable knight, watching to see if anything sparks, without pressuring you.”

“I think you’re reading too much into it. There aren’t many younger knights doing Classic Soresu. The more experienced knights and masters would make the sparring too lopsided.” He crawled into his bedroll and lay on his back, still watching the stars. “Besides, I’m not interesting anymore without the Ataru aerials.”

“Maybe Yoda’s just trying to find the right one.”

Obi-Wan squirmed, tugging at an ill-placed rock with the Force. “One of the little twerps asked if the ‘B’ stood for _boring_.”

“The ‘B’?”

“He thought one of the ‘Obi’s’ in my name was initials. He suggested _Oh That’s Boring_.”

Bant snickered despite herself. “Is he related to Bruck Chun?”

Obi-Wan snorted back. “He didn’t look like Bruck, but he certainly had the attitude.” He stared up at the stars again. “I know I’m not the most exciting prospect from their point of view, but it seems foolish to antagonize even young knights like me.”

“What did you do?” Bant asked, giggling.

“Waited for an opening and knocked Quinlan on his ass. He died very dramatically.”

Bant cracked up. “ _He_ doesn’t think you’re boring.” She could almost hear Obi-Wan rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you want to date?” Bant got out her own bedroll.

Obi-Wan was quiet. “It’s hard for me to love people, Bant. It’s hard for me to trust people.”

“You don’t need to pick a life partner or even someone to make babies with. It’s just dinner, or dancing and mating. Qui-Gon isn’t your master anymore. You’re allowed, Obi.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan was quiet. “I don’t want to.”

“Why?” In her experience with Master Tahl and Master Qui-Gon, mammals enjoyed frequent mating, even without children resulting. When her childhood friends became adults, they had reiterated this.

“Not every human wants sex, Bant.”

She was quiet for a long moment. “Is that normal? Are you sick?” So far as she knew humans didn’t have a mating season, but there were many subspecies and near-humans, which varied from the norm.

“I’ve been discussing it with Vygor. There’s nothing physically wrong with me. Vygor thinks I’m at the far end of the range, but still within normal parameters. He’s been very diligent about exploring this because low sex drive can be a symptom of depression and other issues, but he thinks it’s inherent to my personality and not pathological.”

“Garen and Reeft worry about you. They think you aren’t moving on from Master Qui-Gon.”

“I’ve moved on, Bant. I’m not going back. But I’m not moving on to what they think I should. I’m not interested in someone to fuck just because I’m stressed out or bored or lonely.”

“What are you interested in?”

Obi-Wan stared into the fire. “Companionship. Someone to talk to. Someone I can trust. Someone I can care for and who can care for me in return.”

“Don’t you need to date other people to find that?” Bant asked.

“Most people expect you to have sex with them long before they reach that.”

“Can you just . . . have sex with someone until you get there?” She had met Mon Calamari at the Spawn Run who didn’t want to be there, who didn’t really enjoy the spawning, but they sucked it up and did it.

“Some people do. But the desire isn’t there.”

“Didn’t you feel desire during your S-training?” Bant certainly had, even outside of spawning season, even for her human master.

Obi-Wan didn’t speak, but she could feel him shoring up his shields. She had hit a nerve.

“Obi?”

“Master Qui-Gon felt that S-training would have been a waste of his time.”

Neither of them spoke. A small animal rustled quietly in the undergrowth.

“So how did you get trained?” Bant asked at last.

“I wasn’t.”

“So how did you lose your—”

“I didn’t.”

“And they still knighted you?” Bant knew her own S-evaluation was less extensive than was typical for humans due to having a mating season. Siri had reported hers had gone on _forever_ due to her history of emotional volatility.

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. “Master Yoda is old enough to have trained padawans before S-training. Historically, it was practiced informally before it became part of the required padawan curriculum, and it used to be more common for padawans to be trained by other masters or even multiple masters, or to wait until they were knighted. Junior Knights centuries ago were more like Senior Padawans today. Some things have shifted. S-training was codified. Given my situation, the Council opted to test me with a slightly different rubric, and there are asexual Jedi who still manage to get knighted, though they are required to have some degree of S-training and evaluation of their feelings or lack thereof.”

“Are you asexual then? Celibate?”

“Asexuality is more of a spectrum than an absolute. Vygor and I are still exploring that possibility, but he thinks I’m on the far end, not the very end. I’m currently celibate and not looking to change that, but there have been some indications this might not always be the case.”

“You’re attracted to someone?” She tried not to sound too hopeful.

“No. I’ve just had dreams. I talked them over with Vygor. He thinks it’s possible I may someday have an intimate relationship, but,” he shrugged. “How and with who remains a mystery.” He yawned suddenly, the day’s travel taking their toll. “Master Yoda also claims there are _interesting Force currents_ and he has been gently encouraging me to find adult friendships.”

“Do you _want_ to lose your virginity? It doesn’t sound like you talk about it much, but we could probably find someone to help you.”

“No.”

“I mean, if we found someone you already trusted. Garen maybe, or, well, probably not Siri. I know Kressa would, but I can understand if you’d want to know someone better. Or—”

“Bant?”

“Yes?”

“Stop.”

She took a deep breath, then let it out. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t expect you to understand, just to accept that it’s my decision.”

“Okay.” She was quiet for a while. “I just want you to be happy and sex does tend to make people happy, and your species tends to have it and my species still does . . . stuff outside of normal mating.”

Obi-Wan looked at her questioningly. “Stuff?”

“Stuff. Touching, stroking, physically exciting stuff. Stimulation without spawning for mutual benefit.” She settled down on her side, looking at him. “It’s different than the feelings during Spawn Run, but it’s similar. And it . . . it feels really good. And I don’t think it’s that different from human mating, in terms of how it’s supposed to feel. Master Tahl said it felt similar in the Force.”

Obi-Wan was very quiet. “In the dreams I had, someone was touching me. It wasn’t sex, but Vygor thinks it was in the context of a sexual relationship.”

“Who was touching you?”

“I don’t know.” He sighed. “But if it ever happens, it would be in the distant future. Not soon.”

“It might not happen. Obi, what if you have to work toward it?”

“Bant, I don’t want to.” He glared up at the stars, trying to explain. “You know how Garen gets when he goes to the clubs and gets hot for someone he’s flirting with?”

“Yes. He has desire. Mon Cals get that. We get a general desire to mate during Spawn Run, but we can also feel desire to do stuff with others outside of Spawn Run.”

“I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t. Not enough to do anything anyway. I assumed I would when I was grown, they taught us it was normal to, and I just didn’t.”

Bant was reminded again of the reluctant spawners, who rather than taking joy in the rush as their bellies swelled with maturing gametes, as their response to touch became more sensitive, as their cloacal folds began to flush, then swell, then clench with a sweet ache that would eventually drive them to the water, instead just found the whole thing to be an outrageous bother: abdominal cramps, irritation and an inability to sit comfortably until long after the whole ordeal was over. She had wondered how it could feel so different, why they were denying themselves pleasure or if it really just didn’t feel good to them.

“Did you desire Satine?”

“Not the way you mean.”

She lay on her side, her head propped up on her hand. “You felt something for her.”

“I wanted to help her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to help her build a world where there would be peace and she wouldn’t need my protection. I wanted to help her realize her dream.”

“Did you want to fuck her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I did not want to die a long, painful death at the hands of her Mandalorean family, some of whom might have willingly killed her for her pacificism, and in the next breath killed me if she didn’t die a virgin.”

“Oh.”

“I think I wanted to kiss her a little.”

“A little?”

“Like I said, not enough to actually do it. But once or twice I thought it might be . . . pleasant. She was strong and brave and smart and beautiful, and I wished I could have had more of a connection with her. I wished we could be friends in peace instead of comrades in wartime. I don’t know if it was truly a sexual longing or if it was just wanting the strife to be over, to have a little comfort and closeness. As I said, it wasn’t enough to make me want to do anything, and I was seventeen _and_ she was a planetary leader. Definite no. Master Jinn reminded me of my padawan vows as if I were some sort of horny pervert who would corrupt her purity, but that was frankly so far from my mind it was laughable.”

Bant thought back on how Obi-Wan had spoken of Satine when he and Master Qui-Gon had returned from that mission. They were all quite sure Obi-Wan had a crush on the girl, and equally sure he hadn’t acted on it, but she had always assumed he had wanted to, that he would take time for himself to think of her and stimulate his privates when he was alone, the same way she would lie submerged in the tub, draw water down deep into herself, then stroke her folds over and over, imagining it was her master’s hand, having absurd fantasies of presenting her eggs to her master, no matter that they were both female, no matter that Tahl was near-human. She would rub and imagine it was Tahl’s hand stroking her there, that Tahl’s hand would slowly, teasingly slip inside to stimulate a release and it would feel so good, it would come in waves like the water in the lagoon, and she would lose herself to it, moaning under the water.

She knew humans did similar things, rubbed themselves alone or with lovers. She got older, and then it _was_ her beloved master’s hand stroking her patiently, not just there, but all over, and then it was inside and it was wonderful, it was so much better than doing it alone, and she was so eager they once did it every night for a full week straight and she began to understand why her master so enjoyed visiting with Master Qui-Gon. Then her master had shown her how to pleasure a human female, how to feel a lover in the Force, and what it felt like to make love to someone you shared a bond with, and it was awkward and messy and wonderful as she learned what made her master moan and cry out behind closed doors. It was a beautiful experience, when she had truly learned to feel the Living Force inside herself, to feel another being’s pleasure, and to feel her master’s deeper love through their bond.

But Master Qui-Gon felt it was a waste of his time.

It seemed so cruel, so terrible to deny Obi-Wan those lessons for all that it didn’t seem as if he would have experienced it in the same way. It sounded as if Obi-Wan would have enjoyed the closeness, the bonding, even without the sex, but it was clear he had been offered neither. If the love simply was not there, she wondered how the sex would have felt, if it would have hurt instead.

She remembered her first Spawn Run, when her master had gone with her along with a male Mon Calamari healer, so she could both truly experience it and still be with someone she loved. She remembered laying naked on the warm sand, shyly stroking between Healer Gond’s legs, her own master warm behind her back, stroking her folds, rubbing her belly, gravid with eggs, Gond’s own belly pressing her own as his sperm began to prepare, all three of them moaning, as she Force-nudged the vibrator between her master’s legs. She remembered her folds clenching as the first eggs began to fall, remembered both Tahl and Gond had their fingers inside her, teasing her walls to get the contractions going so the eggs would release, Tahl’s lips on her neck, Gond’s heavy body pressing her into the sand, feeling his sperm fluttering against her fingers inside him, feeling them swimming against his taut belly, and the deep, deep pleasure of a real spawn as the eggs began to _move_ , and she had thrown her head back and yelled, because they were still on the sand and the eggs were coming down _hard_. And Gond had picked her up in his arms, Tahl trailing behind, and carried her into the water, Tahl holding her precious eggs in with the Force, not a single one lost on the beach, and she had wailed, even after the water was over their heads, and they were in the sand below the waves, releasing, releasing, sweet pleasure and Gond’s sperm swam to her eggs and to others and Tahl was still holding her, still stroking her belly as the eggs dropped out and Gond rubbed their bellies together and it seemed like the Force shook with their joy.

After, they had been walking along the beach, back toward their hotel when they had heard pained cries from the sand. A female Mon Calamari, belly full of eggs, was crouched in the sand, trying to stimulate herself with a toy, far removed from the pheromones of the orgy down the shore. It was clear it was not going well, her cloaca was swollen, irritated from the stimulation, but she could not get her eggs to fall, and any pleasure of the experience was clearly shading into pain. There were no males this far down to help her, and her cries turned anguished as without the biochemical signal, the eggs refused to drop. Gond went over to her immediately, speaking quietly, tipping up her face to look into her eyes. Bant couldn’t hear what he said, but she nodded and shook her head in turns, eventually agreeing to let Gond help her. She dug a shallow pit, then crouched above it while Gond gently stimulated her, letting her lick his skin to get the signals she would normally get through the air or the water. She gave another pained cry, she was dry from hours of trying on her own, but then Gond did something in the Force and she gasped and fell against him, whimpering in relief instead of pleasure as her eggs finally began to fall into the sand. Gond held her, rubbing her back and belly while she continued to whimper, the eggs dropping into the sand, unfertilized, destined to die if they didn’t make it to the water. Bant stepped forward to help, wanting to give them a chance, even if Gond was empty, but he shook his head and Tahl led her away while Gond gave the woman some water and pills from his medpack, and applied salve to her folds.

He had explained later that the young woman had a mutation that was difficult to live with and had not wanted to risk passing it down to offspring. Her condition was obvious from looking at her, and fertile males had shunned her, leaving her to try to spawn alone. She and Gond had buried the eggs as was her choice, and he had taken her to an aid station. She didn’t want to spawn, but the eggs still kept coming every few years, so she tried to balance being close enough to get the needed pheromones but far enough away that her eggs would die before reaching the water. All alone amongst an orgy of spawning strangers, there was no joy in it for her, even though passing gametes was among the greatest physical pleasures for the Mon Calamari.

Bant glanced across the glowing embers at her sleeping friend, wondering if sex would be like that for him, painful, embarrassing and lonely, or if he could find a way to find the joy in it. Did he stroke himself like other humans, feeling the pleasures like her master did, or did he feel nothing, or worse, pain? She knew he accepted hugs and pats and pets readily from a few, select people, herself included, but did he ever get the rushes and tingles, the climax that brought joy? Or was it like it was for that lonely woman, just rubbing that led to a chafing ache instead and terrible loneliness? He had said he had dreams of another’s touch, but why did he not want to pursue it? Why didn’t he get excited by others like Garen and Siri? Why was there no desire?

She opened herself to the Living Force, her thoughts causing her own folds to tingle a bit in response, while Obi-Wan slept on, undisturbed. She sensed him as best as she could, and as usual, felt nothing wrong. His emotions had calmed, his mind was balanced, and everything felt healthy, functional. Normal. He even had bonds in his mind, reaching out into the Force. To her. To other friends. There were two scars where bonds had been broken, probably to Master Jinn, but there were healthy, strong bonds too. There was nothing to indicate he _couldn’t_ form a bond with a lover, just that he hadn’t yet. Maybe he hadn’t met that special someone. Maybe he had and the bond needed to grow. Maybe he would find someone when he was older, someone who could work through his disinterest or offer the closeness he craved without hormonal demands. Maybe he would die alone, never knowing such deep pleasures in life and the Force.

 _I don’t want to_.

She knew life wasn’t fair. Not to that Mon Calamari. Not to Obi-Wan. Not to anyone. But especially as a Mon Cal, she knew love and desire were not the same thing, and Obi-Wan _did_ want love. Love was something she could share, even if it was just the platonic kind.

She sent a warm pulse along their bond of friendship, and felt it received and weakly returned. Obi-Wan’s weakness in the Living Force meant it was entirely possible he could not consciously sense these weaker bonds, if he considered them bonds at all, or just connections.

He rolled over, his shields fluctuating a bit as he moved through different layers of sleep and she caught a quick glimpse of what looked like the foundation of a very deep bond that was in the process of forming, but it did not seem to be attached to another person.

“What the Sith?” Bant opened herself more, looking closer, but the shields had closed, and whatever it was remained hidden.

Was it another scar? A remnant of his time with Master Jinn, or someone else? Was it a bond that tried to form but never did, a failed training bond? A bond that had not been reciprocated? A bond that had not come into fruition yet?

Both Obi-Wan and Master Jinn had said their first training bond had formed spontaneously, but the lecture she had gone to last month about preparing oneself for a padawan had described bond formation at the neurological level. Those strong in the L tended to build bonds in real time, growing slowly, then rapidly expanding if the bond was healthy. Those strong in the U tended to lay the foundations of a bond ahead of time, their brains laying the groundwork so it was ready if needed, often giving the sensation of a spontaneous, often instantaneous connection when contact was made.

If Obi-Wan’s brain was forming a deep bond now . . . who was it supposed to connect to? A padawan? A lover? When would it happen? How long had it been waiting? Was he just not interested because his brain was already prepared for someone specific? Or did his disinterest mean it would languish forever, unfulfilled?

She reached out into the Unifying Force too, seeking guidance. She did not get a vision, but felt a sensation in her belly, the feel of ovaries beginning to waken, the slight swell deep inside that said she would spawn this year, but not for many months to come. She could feel the potential, feel that it would come in its own time. The feeling faded, leaving tingling in its wake. Whatever she had seen, it was not time yet, but it would come. Obi-Wan’s brain would be ready.

A quick check in the Force revealed Obi-Wan was field-sleeping, alert for danger but otherwise unconscious. The perimeter alarm was set. She rolled over until her back faced the fire, wide eyes on a bright star on the horizon as she slipped her fingers down her pants, her folds moist, thrilling to her touch, aroused by her memories and she began her slow, deep strokes, remembering Gond, her master, the beautiful man at the last Spawn Run, the Nautolan she sometimes spent nights with, the feel of the Force when she felt the rush, even without eggs, and she clamped her mouth shut as she climaxed, intense, pleasurable contractions bearing down on her fingers. When she could breathe normally, she glanced back at her friend who slept on, undisturbed. The Living Force glowed all around her and when he moved in his sleep, she saw that foundation again, but this time she could see it was growing at the roots of a bond he already had. Whoever this bond was supposed to be with, it was someone Obi-Wan already knew.

A lover? A padawan? Both?

The afterglow faded and Bant could see no more, but before it died completely it looked as if the bond’s time was drawing close, ends unfurling, ready to connect in a substantial way. If Obi-Wan was actively avoiding relationships that might lead to the expectation of sex, had Yoda found him a padawan after all?

Would he accept it, or refuse it like his master?

Or would it wither and die, the connection never made?

“Take the chance, Obi,” she whispered. The foundation was extensive, the groundwork for a very deep bond. A bond for someone to be close with. “Take the chance.”

* * *

“Very good, Master Bes.” Brother Artin stepped around the elder Kiffar, ready to catch him with his arms and the Force but pleased it hadn’t been necessary. “ _Someone_ has been doing their homework.”

Bes ducked his head. “I always _do_ my homework, Brother Artin. I’ve just been putting more effort in.”

“Being more mindful?”

“Yes.” He looked Brother Artin in the eye. “I want to try to build my stamina if I can.” He nodded his head at Si, who was sitting on a floor mat, doing cool down stretches. “Try to get out more and walk more when I do.”

“A fine goal,” Artin concurred. “Just don’t overdo it so much you compromise your sleep.”

“Yes, Brother Artin, I know.” Bes smiled at the monk, then gave Si an even brighter smile as the man stood up and walked past them with a nod, off to shower and visit Brother Folli to get his thick morning stubble shaved off. Bes wondered what he would look like with a beard.

“Should we be concerned about your insomnia?” the monk asked gently.

“No.” Bes looked a bit guilty. “I fibbed. I just came here early so I could see Master Si’s barre routine.” He felt his cheeks pink.

Brother Artin looked as if he had suspected this might be the case. “It really is quite amazing to watch. Usually I’m the only one who gets to see it.”

“It _was_ amazing. He used to do that stuff when _I_ was a padawan.”

The monk chuckled. “And you were feeling nostalgic?” he asked as he helped Bes into a weight machine.

“No. Just curious.”

“If I may ask, Master Bes, would you know why Master Si has stepped up his exercise routine? He hasn’t done anything dangerous and is increasing his efforts at reasonable intervals. I just don’t know what is motivating him.”

Bes frowned as he went through his own weight routine. “I’d suspect he was trying to look fit for the seminar he’s doing with Drallig, but if he bulks up before that he’ll have to get new clothes again.”

“Like you he seems more concerned with building stamina.”

“I know this Sith business has him worried.”

“That isn’t a rumor then?” Brother Artin looked concerned.

“So far as I know it hasn’t been verified, but I’ll probably know more after this class.” He did another rep. “I know it’s got Si spooked. He thinks we aren’t prepared for whatever is coming.”

“Hmm. He is wise and senses much. I will have to discuss this with Brother Ospen. We have many infirm residents who would not be able to defend themselves if the Temple should be attacked.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that, but it’s another reason I’ve been more diligent.”

“Well, I shall be sure to thank the Sith for their help in motivating you should they ever choose to attack the Temple. _After_ they have been contained of course.”

“Of course.”

* * *

After Bes’s morning workout, Brother Trose came by to be his shower buddy, and then he set about his day. He checked his messages to find Quinlan had confirmed for the next day for their usual art walk and lunch. Sister Drish was holding a prayer bead stringing session next week and all were welcome. The nuns liked to keep a stock on hand for visiting dignitaries, parents who brought their children to the Temple in person, funeral rites and the like. Bes usually tried to attend. It was a sitting activity that made him feel useful. Obviously, Si did not attend, but Masters Yoda and Yaddle sometimes came if their schedules allowed, and occasionally the odd Jedi knight or master who needed an alternative to meditation.

He made it down to breakfast to find Si (now clean-shaven) still working his way through tea and nut butter toast, his protein already cut into neat, bite-sized cubes by the kitchen staff, and Denna warming her hands with a large mug of caff.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning, Bes.” Denna peered at her mug, trying to decide if the caff was still too hot to drink. Si only nodded, mouth full.

“When is the day trip to Aleut’s again?” Denna asked after Bes had gotten settled. “I keep mixing it up with the craft workshop Brother Ospen keeps going on about.”

“The art preview is next month on the twelfth. The mini-mosaic workshop is this month on the twentieth.”

“Mini-mosaics?” Si asked.

“Yes,” Bes sipped his tea. “A local craft teacher is coming to show us how to put very small, well, they look like rhinestones, onto these special tiles to make small mosaics. Then they are supposed to put everyone’s together to make a tabletop for a small side table on the terrace. Apparently, it’s the latest craft fad.” He took a bite of scrambled protein. “Are you going to try it, Denna?”

“I was going to come watch.” She turned to Si. “The rhinestones are damn tiny and most of us are half-blind. This could be hilarious.”

Bes rolled his eyes. “I assume Brother Ospen expects us to use the Force to compensate. I think it will be fun.”

“Hmm,” Denna did not look convinced. “Of course you do. When’s the last time you got covered in rhinestones?”

Si snorted but did not comment.

“That was just a phase,” Bes replied.

“That lasted into your forties,” Si raised an eyebrow. “In fairness, you wore them well.”

“Didn’t he used to glue them onto his face too?” Denna asked, eyes twinkling.

“Yes,” Si concurred. “He would use them to highlight his Qukuuf when he went out to the clubs. But he always had excellent shoes and that is much more important.”

“One of my grand-padawans always wanted to wear sparkles _like Master Bes_. Her master had to make a ‘no rhinestones on missions’ rule.”

“Well of course you don’t wear them on missions,” Bes scoffed. “They clash with your lightsaber.”

“Are you going to the workshop, Si?” Denna asked, snickering, as she brought her cup to her lips. The lip of the cup was still too hot, so she put it down again.”

Si held up a shaking hand. “No.”

“Oh, come on. You can consult on color, and the two of us can laugh our asses off when everyone tries to use the Force and all the tiny rhinestones go flying.”

“How small are they?” Si asked.

“Tiny.” Bes held up two fingers, showing only a few millimeters in between. “Bigger than greel oats and smaller than lentils.”

“You and I can watch this turn into an absolute crap show and while everyone is fussing, we can take turns sneaking rhinestones into Brother Ospen’s pockets. It’ll be fun.” Denna’s grin was mischievous.

Bes sighed. “It’s a new craft. It _will_ be fun.’

Si steadied his hand to drink his tea, then put down the cup. “Maybe I’ll stop in to watch.”

“Bonus points if you can stick them to Ospen’s face without him noticing!” Denna grinned.

“You mean we aren’t going to use them to spell rude things on his back?” Si asked, expression innocent. Denna cackled.

Bes shook his head at them. “You two are acting like children.”

Denna shrugged. “Most people our age are _dead_.”

Bes bit his lip, waiting for Si to start talking about death again.

“Don’t let her fool you, Bes. She hasn’t regressed. She never grew up.”

Denna tried to give Si her best teacher face, but she wasn’t quite old enough to have had him as a pupil. “Smartass.”

“According to Master, that should have been my name,” Si shrugged.

“Really?” Bes asked, eyes wide. “Not Si-Chib?”

Denna cackled so hard Si had to catch her cup (and her caff) with the Force.

* * *

After breakfast, Bes found Wallace and took him to the daily guided meditations. The weather was poor today, which could sometimes put Master Clearing in a melancholy mood, so he opted to go for the group Master Yaddle was leading by candlelight in one of the meditation cells, rather than the Reflection on Rain session that Brother Nept was giving on the Terrace. Yaddle had created a close, cozy environment with soft rugs, warm low lights, and her comforting presence. Wallace settled immediately, recognizing what was expected by her aura and Bes awkwardly sat beside him. He took Wallace’s hand (mostly to be alerted if he tried to leave) and they both quieted their minds, listening to Yaddle leading the chants, ringing the chimes, telling them what to visualize and focus on. When they left, Wallace was remarkably calm, clear-eyed, and in a good mood, primed to accept the flow of time as it came, even if the big picture remained lost to him. Sister Hern was delighted to see him so well when she came to relieve Bes and take Wallace for his daily light exercise.

Bes had nothing on his schedule before lunch and he was not as tired as he expected to be after his daily therapy, so he opted to ramble about the South Terrace for a while, despite the rain. The low rumble of raindrops against the roof was relaxing, calming, as he walked the carefully smoothed garden paths. Sister Azalea, the chief gardener among the clergy, followed along behind him at a distance, watering the flowers and plants.

“Do you want to go ahead?” Bes asked when she had drawn close after he spent perhaps a bit too much time smelling the roses.

“Oh, Master Bes, I’m not waiting on you. Can you smell the rain in the air?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s not the rain you smell, it’s my little green darlings getting ready to drink. They _know_ it’s pouring outside, but they don’t know they’re inside. I’m giving them a drink, so they don’t figure it out.” She nodded at him. “You take your time. The trees and shrubs need a good, deep drink.

“The garden is lovely as always, Sister.”

“We do our best,” she smiled as a small shrub began soaking up the water, sparkling in the Force, building reserves to keep growing. “We’re going to start seeds next month for the next batch of annuals. You’re welcome to join us. I know you like doing it and the plants like you.”

“I’ll try to make it. It’s the only way I can really get into the dirt anymore.”

“Oh, you mean you can’t dig out invasive shrubs by the rootball anymore?” she chuckled. “Won’t be long before I can’t either. Over in the Main Temple they are redesigning the kitchen garden with raised beds and table height planters. They’re looking for a few good Temple-bound Jedi to help with the regular maintenance. Most of it could probably be done from a scooter if you were interested.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Not that we don’t have the greatest respect for our Agri-Corps brethren, but we’re trying to increase the Temple’s in-house food generation capacity. Also improves air quality.”

“I don’t know how much help I could be, but I would be interested,” Bes nodded eagerly, now following the nun down the path. “Even just to see the setup.”

“There’s a meeting coming up soon for volunteers. I’ll post it to the calendar, but I’ll send you more information. When I heard the planters were raised for easier work, I immediately thought of you. Not that the rest of us aren’t thrilled about not bending over.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

“You’re welcome, Bes. I know the flowers and the trees always love your bright spirit. Let’s hope the squashes and beans do too.”

“I hope so.” They had reached the end of the path. Bes bowed his head, gave Sister Azalea a grin, then headed back to his rooms to do some light cleaning and update his personal calendar before lunch. There were so many interesting things to do he sometimes felt he was busier now that he was retired.

When he got back to his room, there was a large garment bag hanging from his delivery hook that Laundry Services used, but it was not laundry day. Bes frowned at it. He hadn’t been expecting anything.

Confused, he found the delivery tag tied to the neck of the hanger and peered at it. It was from Stores (so not laundry) and his name and delivery address were spelled out right there. He even put on his reading glasses and it was still there. He didn’t recall ordering anything recently that might need a garment bag. He bought his own pants and shirts off the rack and tried them on in the privacy of his room, and he knew his sizes for all the standard cuts, so unless something was backordered that he had forgotten about, he couldn’t imagine what this was. Curious, he pulled down the zipper.

“ _Oh_.”

It was the coat. _That_ coat. With copper buttons gleaming beautifully against the deep, black nap and the brilliantly colored embroidery. Bes stared at it. He had told Edro he couldn’t afford it. Had there been some mistake?

He looked at the tag again, but the payment section was blank, and the only other tag was from Alterations, listing a ‘button change and surplus buttons (pocket).’ Still puzzled, he peeked into the pockets and in the left one he found a small packet with two extra copper buttons, a larger packet with a full set of brass buttons and a folded piece of flimsy. He unfolded the unexpectedly large sheet and puzzled over the very large chicken scratch. It wasn’t Edro’s handwriting.

_Thank you for help + support._

_Very grateful._

_Pls Enjoy._

_—SS_

He was still puzzling over it, unconsciously running his fingers over the letters before his psychometry picked up a sense memory and he realized this note was from Si. The penmanship was awful, as if he had gone to battle wrestling a wax pencil with the soul of a rancor. For a moment he was stunned just by that, that the same hands that had done so many beautiful paintings now had to struggle so much to scratch out a simple note.

He looked from the note to the coat. It was beautiful, but it was too much. He couldn’t accept this. Maybe he could return it and Si could get his credits back. It really _did_ look fine with copper buttons. He ran his fingers down the coat and could feel Sergei, gleefully changing out the buttons, smiling.

 _No_. It was too much.

He carefully zipped the bag closed, took a calming breath, then walked down the hall to Si’s rooms.

Si’s door was open, the signal among residents that visitors were welcome (and a small part of Bes’s brain noted Si had been leaving his door open more frequently) when Bes arrived. He looked in to see Si had also gotten _his_ deliveries from Stores and was using the Force to unzip the bags and check the contents against the delivery lists. The legs of his boots peeked out from a box on his desk, freshly polished and shining bright.

“I can’t,” Bes blurted out before Si had even noticed he was standing in the door.

Si looked up from examining his freshly hemmed pants, his expression puzzled. “Can’t what?”

"I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”

Si raised an eyebrow.

“The coat,” Bes clarified. “I can’t. It’s too much.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.” Bes could feel himself blushing. “I’m old and retired and don’t have that kind of money and it’s gorgeous with the buttons and I can’t keep it.”

“Yes, you can,” Si replied calmly as if it were all quite simple. “It’s already been paid for.”

“It’s too expensive.”

“No, it isn’t. And it’s not your money, it’s mine. And I have spent it as I see fit. And if I decide I want to purchase a gift after living like a miser for seventeen years, that’s what I’m going to do.”

Bes sighed, not sure why his eyes were prickling as if he were trying not to cry. “I told you before, Si. You didn’t have to do anything to thank me. I would have done it anyway.” The tears threatened again. “We’re just friends, Si. That’s enough.”

Si looked at him over the rim of his glasses, his gaze sharp and piercing. “Do you remember when you were a padawan or a young knight and you would practice katas in the training salle, and when it finally clicked and you had done it correctly, you would look at yourself in the wall mirrors and smile, knowing you had done a good job. When you were confident in your place and your skills?”

“Yes,” Bes could definitely feel the blush now. He hadn’t realized Si had seen that, much less remembered it.

“When you put that coat on in Stores, you looked at yourself in the same way. You saw yourself in the mirror and remembered who you are. You stood up tall, even your Force presence changed, and you felt like you did when you were a Field Jedi. Strong and confident,” Si was quiet a moment. “You don’t look like that often, Bes. If a coat helps you remember who you are, it’s more than worth it.”

“But . . . it’s,”

“It’s a gift. A thank you.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I helped you pick out clothes.”

Si took off his glasses and gave Bes a pointed look. “Bes, is that all you think you’ve done?”

“Yes?”

Si shook his head. “Bes, you’ve been helping me get over my own hang-ups and semi-rational fears and remember who I used to be. You’re helping me remember my vows and my duties, and actually do something about them. I don’t know if anything I’ll manage to do will actually make a difference, but . . . without your help I wouldn’t even make the attempt. I’d just sit in my chair on the Terrace, telling Cin I can’t do anything, and waiting for my master to visit when he can find the time. You helped me remember, Bes. I wanted to return the favor.” He shrugged. “Would you have preferred something else?”

Bes felt the tears flooding his eyes, and he wondered how he could ever have been a Jedi with such poor control of himself. He didn’t want to be seen like this. He turned around, using the Force to keep himself upright and fled back to his room, leaving Si stunned in his wake.

Bes slammed his door closed with the Force and stumbled into his favorite chair, face flushed with shame and his emotions in turmoil.

It was too much. Not the coat. Everything else. And he had always been so careful, guarding his secret, never showing Si how he felt, but Si saw him as a person, apparently he had for decades, and even if he was blind to Bes’s feelings, he _had_ noticed Bes. If Bes hadn’t gotten out of there _right now_ , Si was going to find out.

Not that Si wouldn’t know something was up. He wasn’t senile. _Hell_ , even _Wallace_ would know, not that he’d remember.

He reached for a tissue to wipe his eyes and nose, the tears flowing freely. He had been out of the field too long. _Clearly_. He never would have survived so long as he had if his control had been _this_ bad.

His tears had finally stopped when heard a quiet knock on the door. The presence on the other side was cautious, and definitely Si.

Bes stayed silent, not that he really believed he could hide in his chair forever. He was being silly. He had faced plenty of humiliations in his life, as a Jedi, and after his forced retirement. He could face this too.

“Bes, are you alright?” He could hear the concern in Si’s voice. “I can tell you don’t want to speak with me. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”

Resigned, Bes wiped his eyes one more time, then pushed himself upright and shuffled to the door, then opened it, peeking out at Si’s concerned face. “Yes, I’ll be alright.”

Si didn’t press, merely looked worried. “I’m sorry I upset you. You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to.” He seemed mystified as to what exactly he had done wrong, but clearly hoped to make amends.

Bes looked up at Si’s face and noted his cautious body language, stooping slightly so he wouldn’t loom over Bes, and held his arms by his sides, as non-confrontational as possible. Si really had been through Dip Corps training.

“May I ask what I did wrong?” Si asked gently. “Contrary to popular belief. I don’t actually try to make people flee from me.”

Bes sighed. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Besides spend way too many credits. It’s my own hang-ups that set me off.”

“Has it been a while since you’ve thought about the old days?” Si asked.

“No.” Bes forced a grim smile. It did not reach his eyes. “I think about the old days too much.” He came out of his room and leaned against the door frame. “I’m sorry I ran. That must have been . . .”

“Concerning.” Si leaned back against the wall next to him. “Is there something I should stop doing so I don’t upset you so much in the future?”

_Be less flattering?_

“You don’t need to buy me fancy clothes, Si. I told you I would have helped you because we’re friends."

“I know,” Si sighed. “I wasn’t trying to insult you or imply anything by it. It’s just . . . there’s so little I can do anymore.” Si held up a shaking hand when Bes tried to protest. “I can’t do my art anymore. I can’t cook a meal or even a pot of tea. I’m afraid of leaving the home. It makes it hard to just do something nice for a friend. That’s all I was trying to do. Something nice for a friend.”

Bes tried to fight back tears again. “You don’t have to be that nice, Si.”

Si shrugged. “Even I’m not grouchy all the time. What should I have done instead?”

Bes valiantly (and futilely) fought his blush as his mind went to exciting places he would rather it not. “I’m a simple man, Si.” He also leaned back against the wall, feeling less uncomfortable not having to look at Si’s earnest face. “There’s stuff I can’t do anymore too. I can’t walk on anything more irregular than the Terrace, not even the Meadow Garden. I take a scooter just to go to the Visitor’s Hall, so I won’t fall down and Quinlan won’t have to help me up. But I still have friends and there are still simple pleasures to enjoy. Group meditation. Tea on the Terrace. Getting out to Stores, even if I never buy anything. Craft classes, even if I end up being terrible at them. I still get to spend time with people, I still have great conversations, I still learn new things. I don’t need fancy things at my age, I don’t go anywhere I’d need them. I enjoy them for what they are, but I’m not that young knight who could walk into a club wearing rhinestones or the master who could walk into an elegant state dinner and talk to royals and presidents and aristocrats anymore.”

“You underestimate yourself,” Si sounded quite sure Bes still could do those things. “You might not be as steady on your feet, but you still have your mind and your instincts.” He glanced down at Bes’s legs. “You can probably pull off that innocent act even better now.”

Bes gave a weak laugh. “But I can’t back it up anymore if I need to.”

“I still keep my lightsaber. I can’t spar anymore. I can barely use it at all anymore. Sometimes I can’t even turn it on without risking injury. I can’t maintain it properly. I kept meaning to send it down to Noughten to get it dismantled. Couldn’t do it. Even though all I ever do is hang it on my wall or hang it on my belt.”

Bes glanced at Si’s waist, but he was wearing neither belt nor saber. “Does it still work?”

“Yes,” Si sighed. “Moosie helped me make modifications to it over the years as my hands got worse. That’s why it’s weighted, to smooth out the tremor. He tried a few times to come up with something that would balance out the shaking, but we never could.” He looked down at his hands. They were more still than usual. “I make sure to test it every so often. Levitate it in the center of the room and turn it on. I know I’m not going to use it again, not really, but . . .”

“But it’s part of who you are.”

“Yes.” He looked down at his feet, still in his walking shoes. “So if I wanted to do something nice for my friend Bes, what would I do?”

“You do fine as yourself. Tell me more stories about people we knew or people you’ve met. Show me your old art if you feel comfortable with it. Sit and join me sometimes when I’m watching Wallace, because he’s calmer around you.”

“Participate more.”

“If you can,” Bes shrugged. “I know you get depressed. That’s a risk for all of us. I used to get very depressed when I was first injured. I don’t get as low as I did then, but I’m not the same as I was before. Life is hard. We try to live it together because it’s harder and more painful to go it alone.”

“You’re starting to sound like Master. Just not backwards.”

“Ha,” Bes managed a small grin. “Thanks. I hear he’s a pretty smart guy.”

“Oh, he has his moments.” Si sighed, crossing his arms in his sleeves. “I’m sorry for being too forward. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Bes resisted the urge to sniff, his nose was still a bit runny. It was hardly Si’s fault that he had made Bes a bit uncomfortable since, well, puberty. “I know. As I said, I have my own hang ups.”

“It’s the nature of being alive and sentient. We all have parts of ourselves that hold us back, that give us pause, that turn us off or shut us down. Sometimes they make sense, sometimes they don’t. Being Jedi doesn’t free us from the true limits of our biology. Not deep down.”

Bes nodded. He understood what Si meant and agreed. It was just ironic coming from Si, a man who had spent much of his life pushing the limits on what was biologically possible.

“So in the future, I’ll refrain from supplementing your wardrobe, and perhaps you can tell me if I’m treading on dangerous ground before I inadvertently drive you to such upset?”

Bes shook his head, surprised. Si had not been distracted from his question, and he genuinely did not know what he had down wrong, or why Bes had acted the way he had, but he accepted that Bes didn’t want to tell him and was trying to negotiate a way to avoid future conflict. How had he never noticed Si using established diplomatic technique? It was so obvious, but perhaps with his role as an authority figure and instructor he hadn’t needed them? Or he had spent most of those years projecting strength, not being cautious?

“I think I can agree to that.”

“Thank you.”

Bes closed his eyes. “Thank _you_ , for thinking of me like that, even if I spoiled the sentiment.”

Si shrugged. “I knew it was a risk you wouldn’t want it. I just didn’t think it would upset you.”

“It does look beautiful, especially with the copper buttons.”

“The brass would also work.”

“I’m sorry I over-reacted. I get . . . weird about things sometimes. When you talked about the mirror . . . I didn’t think you would have noticed that.”

Si gave a low chuckle. “We were trained to observe our students, not just teach them, but you were a memorable one. You were talented, could think outside the box and could reach your objectives without outright aggression. You also paid attention to detail.”

“ _I_ was memorable?” Bes couldn’t think of anything in particularly noteworthy that he had done. He could remember recounting to his master his various short-comings, mistakes and losses (mostly because he had done so in front of the Battlemaster), though she always assured him his lapses were normal.

“Yes, you were memorable. You were very good at bantering with your opponents, using your voice and your words to distract them from what you were doing or to continue a debate or negotiation. It also made you appear less formidable to your opponent’s detriment. It was one major factor that made us seriously consider Soresu for you. You certainly had the talent for it. We also used you for evaluations.”

“Evaluations?”

“Those well-loved exams where we would have students rank each other, or show them clips of duels and have them write analyses? You wouldn’t just distract opponents, you fooled observers too. Gave us insight into how students gauged adversaries by how they ranked each other. The ones you _didn’t_ fool often ended up as instructors, or they learned from your example. Very insightful.”

“I never would have considered myself memorable.”

“You were. We generally didn’t call on you to teach, we knew you were busy with your diplomatic work, but we appreciated when you came to the saber clinics. You were always a good role model and you often developed new tactics for Niman. You were also good to pair with the Soresu practitioners. It put you on the offensive, which you could certainly do but didn’t tend to practice as much, and they could learn to banter without getting distracted, which is essential in Form III. You should get Carlin to bring Yoda’s Duckling the next time she picks your brain and you show her Niman tricks. He’s doing well in Soresu, but you could definitely teach him some useful skills.”

“You think he’ll study a third form?”

“Not yet, but I think he’ll pick up bits and pieces of all the forms in the meantime. He’s also getting skilled at Breggle, so those Niman tricks will be within his grasp.”

“I can still do those,” Bes mused. “I can’t really do katas anymore, and I certainly can’t spar, but the telekinetic stuff can still be done from a chair.”

“And strategy can certainly be taught sitting down,” Si stretched, before stooping again, diplomacy pitted against the realities of aging. “I’m surprised Cin hasn’t asked you to give a lecture or participate in a seminar about it.”

Bes tried not to blush. Si was flattering him again. “I never really considered myself saber instructor material.”

Si snorted. “We certainly did, but you had other, more important work. You were a regular at the clinics, so we tried to match you with adversaries where you could both learn from each other.”

Bes looked down at his mechanical feet. “Why are you doing this?”

Si looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you flattering me? Giving me compliments? Telling me I had good technique?”

Si frowned. “I’m not trying to flatter you, Bes. I suppose I’ve been lax in giving you honest assessments, but we try not to emphasize rankings when students are young. They get obsessed with them. You’re old enough now that I can speak freely. I certainly could have told you sooner, but . . .” he shrugged. “We didn’t talk much before. As I’ve said, it seemed I made you uncomfortable.” He gave Bes a cautious look. “It seems I still do, though I’m not trying to.”

Bes sighed deeply. Si may not have always told him everything, and it sounded as if as Battlemaster he could not, but it didn’t sound as if he had been dishonest. Much of what he had said was in fact consistent with what his master had told him all along, though he hadn’t believed her. And it really wasn’t fair to Si to claim to be his friend but then treat him as if he were repulsive. In a way, Wallace was right. It wasn’t fair to leave Si blind to blunder alone in the dark, walking on eggshells, totally unaware of what he was doing wrong. Diplomacy had taught him that people got along better when there was mutual understanding.

He really hoped he wasn’t making the worst mistake of his life, and then he silently laughed at himself, realizing he was being dramatic. It might be the biggest mistake of his retired life. So far. Surely, he’d do something worse later.

“Si,” he sighed deeply again. “You’re not completely wrong. I have been uncomfortable around you, and it’s not because of anything you did.”

Si stood up straight and leaned back against the wall, either dropping the non-threatening act of giving his back a respite. “Is it because of my attitude, or because I was your instructor?” he asked quietly.

Bes looked up at his face. Si didn’t feel deceptive in the Force, the man was genuinely clueless. “When I was a padawan and a young knight, I . . . I felt uncomfortable around you because . . .”

Si was looking at him intently. It was unnerving.

He tried again. “I was uncomfortable because I had a crush on you.” There. He had gotten it out.

Si blinked, taken aback. “Oh.”

"You really didn’t know?”

“No.” Si was definitely very surprised. “I’ve had a few students express similar sentiments over the years. One was so bold as to request me for S-training when they were underage and when it was _not_ on offer. Most got over it quickly, either finding a more appropriate target or realizing that I was both a grouch and not all that attractive.”

Bes looked back down at his feet. “I didn’t,” he confessed. “Get over it, I mean. I mean . . .” This was hard. “I certainly had relationships, some of which were very good, but . . .”

“I still make you uncomfortable?” Si asked gently.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Si was quiet a moment. “I’m not really sure what I could do to help that. I’m honestly flattered that you found me attractive when we were younger.”

Bes gave him a disbelieving look. Wallace was right, Si wasn’t just blind, he was _dense_. He replayed Si’s responses. Did he genuinely think he _wasn’t_ attractive? Sure, his hair was going white, and his nose was quite large, but it fit his face. For all his dance skills, he was graceful, but not delicate. He was the dancer who could still take on street thugs in a fight and make them think twice before they challenged him (and regret it if they followed through). Bes certainly stayed out of trouble in the clubs (even during the height of his blatant rhinestone phase) but he did recall Si and Jayzen stepping in when young Jedi had (inadvertently or drunkenly) gotten in over their heads a few times.

“Si, you make me a little uncomfortable sometimes, because I _still_ find you attractive.”

“Oh.” The older man looked almost comically baffled.

“I know you’re older, and I’m . . . the way I am, but _yes_ , I do still find you attractive, and when you’re just so casually kind to me, it . . . it unsettles me, and I remember feelings and fantasies I thought I got over a long time ago.”

“I can understand how that would upset your balance.”

Si had pulled his arms in again, taking care to project that he was giving Bes space, rather than withdrawing. “I’m sorry, Bes. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” He grew quiet. “I wouldn’t have asked so much of you if I had known it was causing you pain.”

Bes felt a bit of panic clutch his stomach. The last thing he wanted to do was to drive Si away, especially to spare _his_ feelings. “You didn’t cause me pain, Si. I wasn’t lying when I said I thought we were friends and that I enjoyed spending time with you. If anything I may have enjoyed it too much.” He wondered why he hadn’t just accepted the coat and kept his mouth shut and never worn it, except he knew that wouldn’t have worked either. Si was old, but he _wasn’t_ forgetful.

“I’ve admired you for a long time, and when I was a young, fit man, I would have done so many things to catch your notice if I thought it would have worked, and to hear that you had noticed me all along, as a real person, as myself,” he paused, taking a breath. “It feels wonderful to know you recognize me for my skills, but it also hurts that I was never someone you’d consider romantically, that I was never someone you could look at that way or want to kiss.”

“ _Sapo entrometido,_ ” Si mumbled under his breath. Bes had heard him say this many times before and had spent much of his padawan years assuming it was the only curse Si would indulge in in front of his students. He was fairly certain it was in one of the mid-rim language families, but the closest translation he had ever managed to find through various attempts was ‘interfering toad,’ which was not a recognized idiom.

“I honestly had no idea you felt that way,” Si said at last.

“I tried to keep it to myself.” Bes gave in and wiped his nose on his sleeve. He’d already gutted his pride.

Si’s expression finally began to show some discomfort and Bes felt the chill of despair. “Is that why you were helping me?”

“No!” Bes felt an irrational burst of defensive outrage before his more mature brain quietly reminded him that was a very legitimate question.

“I was helping you because we are friends and you needed help,” he kept his tone calmer and hopefully more convincing. “I _hoped_ we might become better friends, but I wasn’t doing it to,” he winced. “To make you like me or because I thought it would make you think of me that way.”

“I really didn’t think you would have wanted that from me, Bes.” Si was looking at the far wall, arms crossed, reexamining his own memories. Bes almost felt like congratulating himself. Surely outside of Yoda’s species, nursing a secret crush for sixty years had to be some kind of record.

“I mean, if I were going to kiss you, Bes, I’d have to touch you.” Si’s tone was oddly casual. “Most Kiffar find me irritating, you know.”

Bes grew very, very still. The Force suddenly felt electric, as if he were out in the field and lightning were about to strike. “I don’t find you irritating, Si,” he whispered.

Si turned his head to look him in the eye. Bes felt his mouth go dry as he felt Si steadying his hands with the Force.

“I’m going to touch you now,” Si warned in exactly the same tone he used to use before he had corrected Bes’s position in the salle. Bes stared up into Si’s dark eyes as he leaned in close, barely noticing when the elder man tilted his head to accommodate that majestic nose and then he felt Si’s lips touch his and there was a steady hand on his cheek, the other warm against his hip. Si was crowding close, firm muscle all along his own less-defined chest and belly. He was kissing back before he quite realized what was happening, not quite sure how his hands ended up holding Si’s arms, then traveling over his back. But it was good, it was _very_ good, and it had been a very, very long time since Bes had felt someone touch him like this.

He could hear himself groan deep in his throat, feel himself shudder as Si’s tongue slipped between his lips, his heart beat like he was a young man again and he wondered if Si could feel it, pressed together as they were. Si’s mouth tasted like breakfast tea, his body felt like a much younger man’s, and his skin smelled faintly of cologne and liniment, but Si had been the Battlemaster; Bes could not recall a time the man _hadn’t_ smelled of liniment, so even this proved a turn on. Bes opened himself fully to the experience, living in the moment, knowing it would end, and he slid one hand up to Si’s shoulder, then up to his neck, still smooth from his morning shave. He could feel Si’s pulse, slightly elevated but strong, his strong Force presence, and a surprising vitality through his fingers. He could also feel Si’s utter surprise at Bes’s feelings, that Si did feel he was a good friend, and that he did find him to be a beautiful person (though it was not clear if Si felt it was Bes’s inner self or Force presence that was beautiful, much less his physical body). Si’s own presence was very open in the moment and Bes marveled at the power in it, one he had only gotten the barest glimpse of before. He slid his hand higher and sensed strength, vulnerability, and a faint echo of an old injury, of flesh utterly ravaged and later made healed, all along Si’s muscle-corded neck.

Then he could feel the kiss ending, Si pulling away slightly, and he gasped for air, lips tingling, but he was still getting that powerful sensory memory from his fingertips, written into the bones, muscles and sinews of Si’s neck. Bes let his head fall back against the wall, his body and mind trembling. He could not remember feeling so alive, but he was also processing the impression. It was a frozen instant, a memory of staring up at the sky, blaster bolts flying overhead, and just above Yoda’s red-flecked face looked down at him in terror before calling on the Force as he was unable to breath, drowning in his own blood.

He blinked and the memory was over and Si was pinning him to the wall, a questioning look on his face.

“Are you alright, Bes?”

Bes desperately tried to get him mouth to work and not sound like a fumbling virgin. “Um, yes. I think so.”

Si leaned back a bit more. “Do you have your footing?”

“Hmm?” This wasn’t what he had expected Si to say during any of the times he had imagined this.

Si chuckled softly. “Do you have your footing?” There was a mild fluctuation in the Force and Bes realized Si was holding him up. “I don’t want you to fall.”

“Oh, right.” It took more conscious effort for him to stand in his prosthetics. Of course he usually didn’t forget they existed, at least while he was awake, but he could probably be forgiven for doing so under the circumstances.

He glanced down, though Si was standing so close he couldn’t see any more than their chests still pressed together. After a moment he could feel the inputs from his mechanical legs again, and he felt the pressure holding him up slowly release as Si set him down steady, then backed up. Once he was sure Bes could stand on his own, he resumed his previous position, back against the wall.

“You kissed me.”

“Yes.” Si crossed his arms in his sleeves. They had resumed shaking. “Was that something I shouldn’t have done?” he asked quietly.

Bes didn’t speak for a moment. “No. It was very good. Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what it had meant to Si and where this was going, but he wanted to make that part clear.

“I should have warned you about the neck. Old injury there. My apologies.”

Bes blinked, wondering how Si knew he had felt anything, if he had given himself away somehow or if this is what Si had meant about Kiffar finding him irritating. He turned to look at Si again, marveling that such a horrendous injury hadn’t left visible scars. “It’s alright. Bit of a surprise, but not painful.”

“Hmm.”

“Yoda seemed terrified, though I didn’t sense that until you pulled away.”

Si looked at him, eyebrow raised. “Is that what you sensed? Yes, he was.” He ran his own shaking hand over his neck. “Never had a particularly psychometric person feel it before.”

Bes felt his breathing and heartrate returning to normal, but his mind was still soaring. He reminded himself that he needed to return to ground himself. Soon.

“What does this mean?” he finally asked. It had been so long since he had had to negotiate anything remotely sexual and it wasn’t just his legs making him feel off balance. “What do you want?”

Si looked at him steadily. “What do _you_ want, Bes? We’re Jedi. Yes, we’re old and retired, so whatever we choose would likely be tolerated within reason.” He looked at the far wall. “I still don’t allow myself unhealthy attachment, and you’ll have to decide if a deeper relationship on those terms is something you’d want to pursue, or if that wouldn’t be healthy for your heart and mind. I know you to be very careful in who you choose to become involved with. I know you’ve had your heart broken, and I know you’ve been very private in recent years.”

Bes thought it was very kind of Si to describe his long bout of celibacy as ‘private.’

Si shrugged and continued in a self-deprecating tone. “I know I’m certainly not young anymore. I expect I won’t be able to live up to your fantasies. But if you are looking for a friend to share comfort and care with, someone to share intimacy with, it’s something we could try on and see if it fits. If you want someone who will make you their one and only, the center of their universe, someone who will shower you with passion and romance, well, I’m probably not the person to help you with that.”

Bes glanced at Si. The elder man had not mentioned love, but given the circumstances, that would be over the top. Not Jedi. He knew many retired Jedi dropped their vows of attachment when they got older, feeling their waning strength and health coupled with their more insular world made it less of a risk. But Si was still quite strong in the Force, his need to compensate for his hands keeping his Force skills sharp, and his continued efforts in the gym keeping him quite healthy and strong. He might be too old to be an active Jedi, but he could probably be a hell of a Rogue Jedi if he chose. Maybe even a Sith since apparently that was still a _thing_. And he was trained by Yoda himself. It made sense Si would still keep his vows, even if Brother Ospen might look the other way, and the Council didn’t tend to stick their noses in either, unless there was a need.

“That sounds . . . very nice.” Bes winced at how trite that sounded, but he was also becoming aware that he was bleeding emotions all over the place, and Si was shielding them both so all and sundry would not be unwilling participants in the conversation, so at least Si would have some inkling of his underlying feelings. “But, . . .” he looked down at his mechanical feet again, dreading the idea of anyone much less Si, seeing his scarred body naked, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was even on offer. “I’m not whole.”

Si looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to continue.

He swallowed his embarrassment and tried again. “I don’t have legs, Si.”

“I know.” He could have made a joke but didn’t.

“I have scars, missing parts. I’ve gone soft in the middle. And I’m old.”

Si raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I’m older than I used to be.” He looked down again, his prosthetics suddenly feeling as alien and wrong as his first days in rehab, when they were powered up for the first time. “It’s been a while, and I’m not young anymore, or . . . or as nice looking as what you’re used to.” He tried not to remember all those beautiful people Si used to date or dance with or spar with or flirt with. He tried not to remember Master Coorlis gliding across the floor, graceful as a swan. He was attracted to men, but even he knew she was a strikingly beautiful woman.

Si gave him a patient look, as if he had flubbed a basic kata and fallen on his ass. “You do realize I have sex with _Yoda_ on a fairly regular basis, don’t you?”

Bes’s eyes widened. He had forgotten that in the rush of the kiss.

“He’s less than half my height and more than ten times your age,” Si continued. “And green. And his feet are Force-damn freezing all the time. I’m almost thirty years older than you are. My scars are perhaps harder to see,” he gestured to his neck. “But they are there, and they affect me every day.” He held up a hand which was visibly shaking, though slightly less than what Bes had estimated as Si’s baseline level. “And my hands don’t work right. I can assure you that functional hands are a lot more fun in the bedroom than functional legs.”

Bes blushed brightly. Apparently, that _was_ on offer.

“Oh.” It was a lot to think about. It was also something he had wanted for a very long time. “Can . . . can we go slow? See if it . . . if it . .”

“Yes.” As is it was all very simple.

The chimes rang to indicate lunch would be served soon. Bes wondered if this was how Si felt about leaving the home, a deep longing and a trembling fear at the same time.

“Why don’t we talk more over lunch?” Si suggested gently.

Bes nodded. “Yes.” He could do this. Si could go slow. He wasn’t put off by disability or scars or age—

“Wait,” Bes felt a moment of panic. “What about Master Yoda?”

Si gave him a puzzled look. “What _about_ Master Yoda?”

“You’re in a relationship with him.”

“We’re not exclusive,” Si shrugged. “It’s a good question though. I’m very close with Master. Some people have gotten jealous of our bond, but I hadn’t considered you might.” He frowned, no doubt wondering if Bes would be possessive.

“No,” Bes shook his head. “I _know_ you two have a very deep bond. I meant . . .” he wasn’t trying to be nosy. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

Si gave him a careful look. “You think Master Yoda will be hurt if you and I explore a deeper relationship?”

“Yes?” Bes had wanted so much more with Si for so long, but he couldn’t risk hurting the Grandmaster.

Si burst out laughing. “Oh, Bes, no.” He looked at Bes again and laughed harder. “I said we, _ha_ , weren’t exclusive.” Tears were slipping out of the corners of his eyes. “Surely you don’t think _I_ can keep up with him.”

“What?” Bes was genuinely confused.

Si wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Master is the only person I’ve been intimate with in,” he frowned, trying to remember. “Too long. But no, I am not the only lover he keeps. Far from it.” He shook his head. “I can’t keep up with him.” He laughed again. “Besides, even if you and I did eventually decide on an exclusive relationship, Master’s not going to run out of lovers anytime soon.” He snorted. “The horny little toad still has game as they say.”

“Really?” Bes tried not to imagine.

Si chuckled again. “Let’s just say that the Green Dragon is still taking on new riders.”

Bes giggled, despite himself. He certainly knew that euphemism from his padawan days but never expected Si of all people to use it.

The chimes rang again for lunch. Si reached out a shaking hand and Bes felt a Force tendril stroke his cheek and then there was a tiny crystal sphere floating between them. After a moment he realized it was one of his own tears. “You’ll probably want to wash your face before you go,” Si advised.

Bes’s eyes shifted from the tear to Si’s face, both awed and aroused. “Right.”

“I’ll see you at lunch and then we can talk more.”

“Okay,” Bes smiled shyly. “I’ll be a few minutes, but I’ll be there.” Bes turned to go back into his room.

“Don’t forget your coat,” Si reminded him as he began to walk back to his own room for his pills.

Bes glanced back at the garment bag he had forgotten all about. The one that had started this whole glorious mess. “It is beautiful, but—”

“It looks sexy on you,” Si called from down the hall. “Brings out your eyes.”

Bes stared after him, stunned at the casual comment.

 _Damn_.

Sexy? _Him_?

He would _have_ to keep it now. He’d been outmaneuvered, and not in the salle.

“He really _was_ a diplomat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone got a clue! I used Google translate to make up Si's 'swear words' so the translation may not be wholly accurate. 
> 
> I hope no one was traumatized by the piscine orgy. So you've gotten one perspective on S-training, any thoughts about that? Or about Obi-Wan's feelings? Are you all just thrilled about Si and Bes? Was it worth the buildup? 
> 
> Next chapter we'll be checking in with Quinlan Vos and Master Bes.


	17. Part XVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan gets in some sparring and has personal issues, Quinlan and Bes take in some art and talk, and there are several revelations.
> 
>  ~~(This was updated on 5/8 but the system is refusing to update the date. Sorry.)~~ March is not the same as May. D'oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted Song Lyrics are from The Killer's _Human_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RIZdjT1472Y
> 
> This is a Jedi culture chapter with character development. The plot will begin moving a bit more next chapter.

_Pay my respects to grace and virtue,_

_Send my condolences to good._

_Hear my regards to soul and romance,_

_They always did the best they could._

_And so long to devotion,_

_You taught me everything I know._

_Wave goodbye, wish me well,_

_You've gotta let me go._

_Are we human or are we dancer?_

_My sign is vital, my hands are cold,_

_And I'm on my knees looking for the answer._

_Are we human or are we dancer?_

\-- Brandon Flowers, Dave Brent Keuning, Mark August Stoermer, Ronnie Vannucci, _Human_

“Hey, no fair!” Kressa squawked as the hard rubber ball she had Force-thrown changed direction to bounce harmlessly off the wall instead of into the back of Obi-Wan’s head.

Quinlan snorted from the observation bench as he rehydrated. Kressa was getting much better at Niman tricks, but after filming that video of Obi-Wan and Yoda in the garden manipulating all those stones at once, she really shouldn’t have been surprised that Kenobi could redirect one rubber ball.

“It’s fair,” he pointed out as Obi-Wan continued to stay on the defensive, blocking her attacks, biding his time. Quin wondered if he’d ever take up Djem So. He didn’t really have the right build for it, but he had the speed and precision the form required. “No one owns the rocks.”

Kressa restrained herself from answering. The last time she had tried she had ended up flat on her back looking up at Obi-Wan’s saber. It was too easy to forget when he was using the Soresu techniques that he did in fact have a large repertoire of attacks at his disposal.

The two combatants continued to circle each other. A few weeks ago Kressa had managed to singe one of Obi-Wan’s tunic sleeves. She had celebrated with sex (with Quinlan) and pie (also with Quinlan). Obi-Wan apparently was inspired to attend the saber clinics to shore up the hole in his defenses. He was using the same moves today, but the window had closed and now she would have to look even harder to find another one.

She advanced on him suddenly, stepping up her attack and throwing in a Force push for good measure. She drove him halfway across the practice room floor before he stopped, rooted in place. The change threw her off her rhythm, but the opening was small, and he let it pass, not quite confident enough to exploit it. Kressa moved back a step, then tried again, but she could not get the duel moving forward again. Obi-Wan remained in place, deflecting her attacks over and over.

It was very different than sparring with Quinlan. Quin specialized in Djem So, so she was usually on the defensive with him, whereas with Obi-Wan, his relatively new commitment to Soresu meant she was usually on the offensive instead. She liked the difference, having a regular saber buddy that was technique-wise a complete opposite to her field partner. The only issue she really had was not being able to fight both offensively and defensively in the same duel. Master Gi-Ho had told her to come by the saber clinics and they would find a good Niman or hybrid style fighter for her to spar with, but the clinics still intimidated her. Senior Knights and Masters went to those, not Junior Knights.

She attacked again, coming up higher than she usually did, and Obi-Wan ducked suddenly, his saber no longer where she had been expecting it and by the time she had steadied her half-stumbling feet a blue saber was at her neck.

“Yield?” he asked, polite, but with a grin in his voice.

“Yes, you no good rubber-ball thief,” she grumbled as she powered down her weapon.

Obi-Wan withdrew and did the same.

“Good match,” Obi-Wan offered a hand. She took it, not able to really stay angry. It _was_ fair and if Obi-Wan could do it a well-trained Sith probably could too. Best to be prepared.

“Thanks,” she grinned back at him. “I’m going to have to ask Master Bes how to counteract that.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Good to learn, but I probably wouldn’t bother fighting it in the field. I’d just get another rock.”

“Point.” She looked to Quinlan, who had stood up and was stretching, getting ready to chase Obi-Wan around the ring. “Maybe we can have him over for tea and pick his brain again.”

Quin grinned. “We have our usual lunch today. I’ll ask if he’s interested.”

“Thanks,” Kressa half-collapsed on the bench and took a deep drink as Obi-Wan and Quinlan squared off. Before they got started, she called the ball to her hand with the Force, not wanting anyone to trip.

Both young men carefully opened themselves to the Force, feeling each other out, then Quin raised his saber in salute, ignited it and launched an aggressive attack. Obi-Wan raised his own to meet him, letting Quin push him around the relatively small practice ring, letting the larger Kiffar spend his strength and energy trying to push through his defense.

“So, Kenobi, do the initiates still think you’re boring?”

Obi-Wan’s wit wasn’t as quick as it usually was, but they were saber dueling. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll come up with something even more clever. There are two letters to work with after all.”

“Hmm, you’re right. What could that O.B. stand for?” Kressa snickered from the sidelines.

“Well,” he held up against a surprisingly strong attack, dancing away if he could not completely deflect, making Vos push him, but not getting boxed in. “I’m doing Soresu so _Occasionally Bouncy_ is out.”

Quinlan snorted and shook out his arm as he repositioned himself to try again.

“We should think of something cool that O.B. can stand for and beat the little twerps at their own game,” Kressa leaned back, drinking her water and pondering the letters.

Quin frowned, pushing Obi-Wan back. “All I can think of is _Obstetrician._ ”

Obi-Wan did not roll his eyes but his tone indicated he wanted to. “No,” he continued to hold Quin off.

“ _Oddly Brilliant_?” Kressa suggested.

“They don’t need help being convinced I’m strange.” Obi-Wan came to a halt, holding his ground, not for any tactical reason so much as to build his experience. Letting oneself get pushed worked great until one ran out of space, so it was good to practice his defense both ways.

“ _Old Bastard_ ,” Quin suggested, mildly flummoxed by the change. He attacked again and Obi-Wan changed the angle just slightly and he could feel a pull on his saber as the weapons tangled instead of repelled. He stopped the motion abruptly and reversed, backing off before he was disarmed. “ _Big Old Bastard_.”

“The bastard part is true enough, but I don’t think I qualify as old yet. And they are initiates. We should keep it clean.” He waited for Quin to attack again and was not disappointed. “Good recovery.”

Quinlan gave him a grim grin. “Flattery will get your nowhere.”

“I don’t think _old_ works either. You guys are already there with Master _Yoda_ of all people. That’s _old_ ,” Kressa called.

Obi-Wan stumbled but recovered. Quin pressed in, trying to take advantage, only to be blocked.

“It’s really outrageous of those little twerps to mock you. Oh, that starts with _O_.” Kressa got up and began her cool down stretches.

“ _Outrageous Blocker_ ,” Quin suggested, trying not to grit his teeth. He was going to have to start attending the saber clinics to keep up.

“I don’t think a punchy adjective is going to sell them on the wonders of Soresu.” Obi-Wan began moving again quite suddenly, leaving Quin feeling off balance. Part of Quin’s brain noted this was also spelled with _O_ and _B_ , but it wasn’t a good fit for Kenobi.

“ _Outstanding Blocker_ ,” Kressa suggested.

Without warning, Quin dove down low, an attack move he wouldn’t normally take on an opponent much shorter than himself, but Obi-Wan wasn’t prepared for this deviation in his style. Obi-Wan danced and deflected away, but the unexpected attack was going to back him into the wall. Quin kept going only to find Obi-Wan had suddenly launched himself in an Ataru-style aerial over his stooped shoulder. He felt a hot blade against his back and realized he had lost the match.

“Kriff,” he turned to find Obi-Wan’s saber still at the ready after he had landed. “I concede.”

Both powered down their blades.

“Are you okay?” Obi-Wan’s tone was genuinely concerned. It was an unusual position to hit and a sparring Jedi might not wear as many protective layers on their back as they might in more vulnerable areas.

“Yeah,” Qui turned his back to the narrow mirror in the room, looking over his shoulder for damage. “I think you retired my tunic though.”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan grimaced. “I can replace it.”

“No, it was getting worn out.” Quin snickered. “Besides, you don’t want to be _obsequious_.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “At least that one is a bit too long and difficult to pronounce for hurled insults.”

Kressa stood up to finish her stretching. “I’ve got one. _Out of the Blue._ ”

“Why?” Obi-Wan looked puzzled.

“Because you usually try to keep to Soresu, but every once in a while, you switch back to Ataru, and it’s like a bolt out of the blue.”

“Good acronym, too complicated.”

“We could just call him _The Blue Dragon_ ,” Quin suggested. “He trains with Master Yoda and he _does_ know Ataru.”

“Um, no.” Obi-Wan looked distinctly uncomfortable at the idea. “That is a name I certainly don’t have the skill to live up to.”

Kressa chuckled. “Did Master Yoda kick your ass again?”

“Not this visit, but only because we didn’t train.”

Kress shook her head. “It’s hard to imagine the Grandmaster pounding you into the ground.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Why? He’s Master _Yoda_ ,” as if that should be explanation enough.

“Well, okay,” Kressa tried again. “It’s hard to imagine _how_ the Grandmaster manages to pound you into the ground.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “With great efficiency.”

Quinlan laughed. “Master Bes said when he was a padawan Master Yoda spent more time in the salle and would pair spar with then Padawan Dooku. They were the best pair of their day and _not_ because of Dooku.”

“I believe it,” Obi-Wan replied. “Master Yoda is no one to trifle with, inside or outside the salle.”

“Speaking of Master Bes, you’d better get going,” Kressa advised.

“Kriff, gotta run.” He leaned down to give Kressa a peck on the cheek. “Bye. See you tonight.” He dashed out the door.

“Don’t be late. We’re leaving at 19:00!” she called after him.

Obi-Wan began doing his own cool down routine, not wanting to be stiff the rest of the day. “Date night?” he asked.

“Social night,” Kressa smiled back. “We spend too many nights shut in just the two of us, so instead of ‘date night’ we try to do group social activities every once in a while, whether we are both home or not. A bunch of us on the floor are going out for dinner and then to the holo-cinema. I can’t remember what we’re seeing, but the reviews were good. You are welcome to join in. We even managed to get Jitters to go.”

Obi-Wan smiled slightly. “That will be good for him. Give him something to take his mind off his upcoming mission.”

“He’s really nervous.” She realized Obi-Wan hadn’t actually responded to her subtle invitation. “You don’t like the holo-cinema?”

“Hmm? No, I like it fine,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “Just . . . bad timing.”

“You have other plans?” She elbowed him gently as he finished his routine and stood up straight. “Hot date?”

“Um, _no_.” He shook his head. “No, . . . just a night of meditation. I have some . . . difficulties to sort out and an appointment with my therapist next week and I have, hmm, homework to do.”

“You want to talk about it?” Kressa asked, concerned.

“No, I really don’t,” Obi-Wan sighed. “Which is why I need to talk about it with Healer Vygor. Meet my personal problems head on, and all that.”

“Well, maybe next time then,” Kressa patted his shoulder. “You know Quin and I are here if you need a friend to talk to and if you change your mind, we’re meeting in the foyer at 19:00. We might even hit Dex’s. We’re trying to fatten up Jitters.”

“With all his nervous energy he’s going to need it.” Obi-Wan bowed his head. “Thank you. I know you are both good and supportive friends. It’s just . . . something private I have to work out on my own.”

“You come see us if you need to. Sometimes it’s just helpful to have a friend.”

“I will, but for now . . .”

“You want to try on your own.”

“Yes.”

They left the practice room and headed for their respective rooms to shower.

“I’m not doing much to counter my ‘boring’ reputation, am I?”

Kressa chuckled. “Boring is better than ‘refuses therapy.’”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “It worked for my master.”

“I don’t think you’re boring. I think you’re just too hard on yourself.” Kressa stopped at her door.

Obi-Wan chuckled. “It’s on Master Vygor’s list. We’re working on it.”

“Good.” Kressa gave him a bright smile. “Good luck, Obi-Wan.”

“Thanks.”

* * *

Quinlan reached the Visitor’s Hall just barely on time and scanned around for Bes’s scooter. After a moment he spied him across the way, parked next to the wall. Quin waved, then jogged over to meet him.

“Good morning!” Bes’s grin was extra bright today.

Quin gave him a formal bow, Bes being one of the few people he would do it for in an informal setting. “Good morning. My apologies Master Bes. Saber practice ran late.”

“That’s more important,” Bes assured him as he drove his scooter toward the first art display. “Who were you sparring with? How did you do?”

“Carlin and Kenobi. Won against Kressa, lost to Obi-Wan.”

Bes chuckled. “Did he get you with his Soresu?”

“No,” Quin’s voice was slightly exasperated. “I went in low and almost boxed him in and then he Ataru-flipped over me and nailed me in the back,” he scowled. “Should have expected that.”

Bes patted his arm in empathy. He’d been there. “Ataru and Soresu are unusual forms to use together. I can see how that would be a surprise.”

“In the _back_!” Quin laughed to himself. “So what is the theme for this week’s exhibit?” He never bothered to find out beforehand, knowing Bes would have read up on the exhibit and would delight in the retelling. Quin did enjoy art, but these walks were more about sharing time with Bes.

“This week’s theme is _Form at Play_. Paintings and images of the body while doing the performing arts.”

“Interesting.” Quin walked beside the scooter. “We might find your friend Master Si in here.”

“We might,” Bes agreed. “Or some of his paintings.”

“So he didn’t just paint lightsaber forms and bowls of fruit?” Quin chuckled. A few months ago the theme had been _Fruits of the Field_. Several of the still lifes had been Si’s, including a rather ironic painting of a near empty fruit bowl surrounded by peels, cores, and empty cluster fruit stems, as well as food wrappers, discarded drink bulbs and broken crackers. It had the rather hilarious title of _Aftermath of a Human Padawan, Aged Fifteen Years_. Bes had matched the date on it to Si’s second padawan, Nedron.

“Oh yes, much more than fruit.”

The first set of images and paintings were of Jedi holding lutes or woodwinds. A painting of a quartet of musicians in formal tunics, playing for dignitaries centuries ago. A flatpic gallery of small initiates playing simple instruments together, making joyful noise. Bes knew several of the artists, either from seeing their previous works or knowing them personally.

The next set showed Jedi dancing in various media and styles. There were a series of paintings showing dance instructors from three centuries ago. There were flatpics of more recent dance classes, padawans and young knights in leotards, flowing skirts, and dance shoes, learning to move in unison or in pairs. There was also a painting with a familiar signature showing a female dancer posing, and next to it a charcoal study done from life to plan it out. The work was done in vibrant colors, showing the vitality of the subject, the graceful motion. Master Si definitely painted more than bowls of fruit.

“Wow.” Quinlan was impressed.

Bes parked his scooter and looked up at the large canvas. “That’s Master Coorlis.” His eyes followed over the elegant lines of her body. “She and Si were intimates.” Bes tried not to think too much about it. Si had been with many very beautiful people in his youth, but he knew Bes had been scarred and hadn’t been put off by it. Not that he’d seen it yet.

The painting wasn’t entirely true to life like the fruit had been. The colors were a bit off, suggesting stage lights, and there were swirls, arcs and speckles of color, highlighting shape, movement, intention. To a casual observer they would seem to be merely interpretations of the larger dance, but Quin recognized this as a representation of the Force as it moved around and through the dancer, rendered far more elegantly and detailed than the painting outside the salle. Quinlan had always felt these types of Force movements both through his Force sense and his psychometry as warm or cold currents that he instinctively knew were not air moving. He wondered if Master Si interpreted the Force visually and if that’s what made him such a fine saber instructor.

“She is very beautiful,” Quin commented.

“She was,” Bes looked sad a moment. “She passed into the Force before Si moved to the home. Wonderful dance teacher.”

Quinlan leaned in closer, getting impressions from the work. He had learned from the still lifes that Si tended to imprint his works quite strongly with the Force. It was little wonder Bes enjoyed them so much, regardless of his crush. This work felt of professional respect, like Obi-Wan’s drawing of him in the salle, but also of physical attraction. Quin couldn’t exactly say why, but he had the impression that this woman was _not_ one of Si’s lovers at the time the painting was done, there was a distance there, but there _was_ desire.

“The face is very detailed.” Unlike the painting over the salle, the features were very clear, and Quin could only assume were true to life. “Did he do other portraits besides the Nautolan?”

“Oh yes, many. You’ve seen the ones outside the Battlemaster’s office. He did the last four. Master Drallig’s was probably one of the last portraits he did. He could still paint then, but not for long sessions, so he started doing less realistic paintings.”

“Beautiful work,” Quin nodded, and they went to the next exhibit. The next set of images were of Jedi singing. Snapshots of initiates and crechelings learning to sing in a chorus. Flat pics of modern Jedi singers, both soloists and groups. There was a painting, several centuries old, of a Belga Jedi singing some kind of opera aria (based on the clothing), the large cheek and neck pouches bulging with air to support the sound. There was a drawing of a Jedi monk singing the daily prayers, and there was no hint in the drawing itself whether it was modern or if it was centuries old, but the date on the card indicated it was only about sixty years old. It was very technical, detailed and true to life, but less of the emotion was captured. Still, the psychometric imprint was solid. Quin could almost hear the singing.

“Oh my, that’s one of Moosie’s,” Bes commented, recognizing either the feel or the style. “You don’t see his work here much.”

“Moosie?” Quinlan asked.

“Oh, he was the assistant to the Weaponsmith Master. Made very beautiful sabers. Very innovative, but socially awkward. He’d make beautiful technical drawings, then bring them to life. Also very good at selecting crystals. His dream was to serve the Jedi, then become a monk when he retired. Poor dear got cancer in his late fifties. The Council released him from his duties so he could spend his last years among the brothers. Died long before you were born.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“Yes, you have. What was his real name?” Bes thought aloud.

Quinlan peered at the card, so Bes didn’t have to get up or get out his reading glasses. “Mooslivakief Kanu.”

“That was it,” Bes snorted. “You’ve heard of the Kanu Resonance Test for determining compatibility between crystals for multi-crystal blades?”

“Oh, yeah. Never tried it myself, but I’ve heard of it. Obi-Wan was talking about it when he was making his last saber, said the crystals kept failing the test and he was wondering if he was doing it wrong.”

Bes chuckled. “It really isn’t a pass or fail kind of test, more of a better or worse one. Some Jedi are more sensitive to it than others. How does his saber sound and feel?”

“It’s got a strong voice,” Quin replied. “I mean, I thought it sounded very good, but Kress said even the saber instructors were talking about it.”

Bes laughed harder. “Some of the ‘failures’ would probably work. Your friend was probably just so attuned he was sensing the more minor imperfections. Still, the better the score and execution, the more powerful and longer-lasting the saber.” Bes nodded at the drawing. “Moosie was called on to make some of the ceremonial sabers, or to repair and upgrade antiques. If they ever do a saber theme, we’ll definitely see his work.” Bes shook his head. “It’s too bad he’s gone. We could have used his help upgrading sabers for this Sith business.”

Quin looked surprised that Bes knew about it. “You’re really worried about it?”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Bes asked as they moved to the next display.

“Yes,” Quinlan walked beside him. “But there are many knights and masters who were dismissive of it. You’re retired. This isn’t your problem to deal with.”

“I’m retired, but I’m still a Jedi,” he frowned. “Si thinks they are coming after all of us. That we all have to do our part.”

They stopped at a set of flatpics showing images from different art performances over the years. Quin recognized one of his instructors in their younger years. There were several shots of ensembles, as well as solos and pairs. 

“Ah,” Bes pointed out a series of pics of a pair of ballet dancers, the man behind the woman, helping her hold an elegant pose before lifting her up in the later images. “That’s Si and Master Coorlis in one of the Temple Dance Club shows.”

Quin leaned in close. He wasn’t going to get an impression off a print, but he could certainly see the details. Master Coorlis looked very similar to her painting; it had been very true to life. She was beautiful, fine-featured, lean and graceful, but not waifish, like most professional ballerinas. Behind her, Si was very well-built, as would be expected of a Battlemaster. His face was smoother and tan but looked remarkably the same. His hair was darker an slicked back, his eyes intense, and while his features were not fine like Master Coorlis’s, Quin could definitely understand why Bes had gotten so hung up on him. Si’s pose in each print was elegant and graceful, exuding strength and control.

“Sixteen-year-old you had good taste, Master Bes,” Quinlan chuckled. “He used to show up to class in a leotard with that physique? Can’t say Master Drallig ever did _that_.”

Bes fortunately laughed at the gentle teasing. “Well, he wouldn’t wear the sequins and spangles in the salle. But the rest, yes. Not a hint of self-consciousness.” He shook his head. “Denna said one time he was called out of class to the Council Chambers and he only stopped to change his _shoes_. Caused a bit of stir with that, especially as the petitioners were a senator and a journalist wanting to profile young people from their homeworld who had been sent to the Jedi for training. Master Si’s outfit did _not_ inspire confidence.”

Quinlan grinned as he looked through the end of the series. “I’ll bet it inspired something.” He reached the last two images in the set. In the second to last both dancers had turned around, Master Coorlis back on the ground. “Master Silvanus had quite the ass, Bes.”

Bes blushed bright red. “I know.” He laughed at himself. “It’s still very nice.”

“How do you know _that_?” Quin gave him a sharp look. He had seen Si’s pants at the vigil. Though he hadn’t taken off his robe, the pants weren’t exactly tight enough to show off assets.

“We both have PT in the mornings. Well, I do. I think he’s just exercising. And I helped him pick out new clothes.”

Quin gave him a knowing look but said nothing.

Bes waited until his face felt less warm before moving on to the next display. This one had a holoprojector trained on a pedestal showing a small variety show. Various dancers, singers and musicians were projected in short clips. Bes and Quin settled close, then pressed the button for sound. Snippets of song, dance music and instrumental music accompanied the each piece. The two men enjoyed the mini-recital. A small screen on the pedestal listed the dates for each clip and who was in them. Some of the names were Jedi Quinlan knew personally or by reputation. Some were Jedi he had never heard of, some modern, some long gone.

One clip showed a certain Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn doing folk dances with the natives on a world he didn’t know. An elegantly dressed man scowled in the background. Quin pointed him out. “Someone isn’t having any fun.”

Bes snorted. “That’s Yan Dooku. He was Qui-Gon Jinn’s master. Wasn’t capable of having fun. Good Breggle player though.”

“The one who left the Order?”

“Yes, he had a hereditary title on Serrano. Very intelligent. Very academic. Very controlled. Excellent duelist.”

“Huh, sounds like Obi-Wan.”

“Oh, Force. Not at all,” Bes scoffed.

Quin gave Bes a questioning look.

“Your friend seems like a rule follower and is very proper and a little uptight. Yan is very . . . proud. Rigid. Supercilious.” Bes shook his head. “I remember Yan complaining when Master Jinn first took your friend on as a padawan. He didn’t think anything was wrong with Obi-Wan specifically, but that Jinn should have been using his time to train a more powerful student. He didn’t think Obi-Wan was good enough for him and made sure to make his opinion clear.” Bes looked sad. “He wasn’t supportive.”

Quin thought about how Obi-Wan felt in the Force. “Bes, have you ever,” he wiggled his fingers in their sign for psychometry. “Felt Obi-Wan?”

“Hmm,” Bes frowned. “I don’t think I have. He has good manners around Kiffar.”

“I have,” Quin kept his voice quiet and Bes leaned in close to hear him. “I keep hearing people talk about him as if he isn’t very strong in the Force, but my fingers don’t feel that, especially in the salle. I thought maybe it was because he leans to the U, and Yoda doesn’t seem to think he’s a weak Force user, so why does everyone else?”

Bes was quiet for a few minutes. “It could be the Alderaani thing. Alderaani Jedi can sometimes have a quiet Force presence. Si’s commented about it in your friend, but he also thinks he’s very talented,” Bes frowned. “I remember being quite surprised he held up so well against Si’s droids. I realized later that if Master Yoda was bringing him to see Si, he must be quite attuned to the Force. Yoda wouldn’t bother Si unless the student was top notch or had a serious issue.”

Quin made a mental note to look up this Alderaani thing. “Thanks.” He turned back to the display, showing a choir of initiates singing centuries old songs. “Sweet Force, those kids are screechy.”

Bes laughed. The initiate choirs were frequent visitors to the rest home. Wallace seemed to like them, but Si avoided them like the plague. “What they lack in cooperation and pitch they make up for in enthusiasm and Force presence.” He leaned in close, “I wear ear plugs. Takes the edge off.”

Quinlan snickered.

The chorus mercifully ended, to be replaced by ballroom dance music with a strong beat. Not appropriate for diplomacy waltzing on Alderaan, but certainly within bounds in a dance club or the Senate Ball. The screen indicated it was a demonstration clip from Master Coorlis’s collection, she was accompanied by Master Silvanus, and the clip was about fifty years old. Both Quin and Bes watched with interest as the two moved across the floor in a completely different style of dance, much more aggressive, and sharp than the ballet in the prints. They moved together, very much in sync, attuned to the beat of the music and each other. They were clearly very comfortable with each other, Master Coorlis obviously trusting Master Si to hold her steady on the lifts, each keenly aware of where the other was in the space, each advancing and withdrawing in turn as the steps directed. Their clothes were plain, the minimalist practice wear as was appropriate for a demonstration, not a performance, and it showed off both of their forms well. Master Coorlis was a bit older in this clip than in the print series (though with Master Si it was hard to tell). Quinlan wondered if they had been lovers by this point in time, though he assumed they would probably be too discreet to make that obvious in a training video.

“Master Si is what, fifty-something there?” Quin asked.

“Early fifties,” Bes confirmed, eyes bright, his attention focused on the dance. “Before his hand issues started. Looks younger though.”

“You ever dance with him?” Quin asked, knowing Bes did very much enjoy social dancing in his youth.

“Oh, no,” Bes shook his head. “We went to many of the same dance clubs to unwind, but we ran with different groups. He would check in on us young people, make sure we weren’t getting in over our heads, but he kept a distance between himself and his students,” Bes shrugged. “He never pretended we didn’t exist though. He’d give you a nod but wouldn’t interfere unless you needed rescuing or if you chose to talk to him.”

Quin nodded. He’d once been rescued from a very interested and belligerent drunk by Knight Jerrold of all people, which was how they had become friends. Somewhere out there, there was a creep who thought he was Jerrold’s bitch and even though he could handle himself now, he was still very much okay with that.

The dance drew to a close, Master Si pulling Master Coorlis up against himself, her back to his chest, before they both tossed their heads back in time with the last flourish of music. After the last notes faded, they drew apart, bowing their heads formally to each other and the clip ended. The sound did not turn on with the next clip, indicating they had cycled through all of the holos in the series.

“That was quite the show,” Quinlan grinned. He hadn’t taken any ballroom dance classes beyond the basics, but he could see the appeal.

“It always was,” Bes started up his scooter and headed toward the next display. “I took several classes and workshops to brush up with Master Coorlis. Sometimes she and Si would do a live demonstration if her usual assistant was not available. It was always a treat.”

Quin laughed as they reached the next display, which as usual were rough sketches done in one of the open drawing workshops that were held weekly. At least one of the classes would conform to the upcoming theme of a future exhibit to keep things fresh and show new artists, both serious and casual. The art instructors had arranged for several dancers to pose or dance for the open studio workshop, and the dancers were depicted in a variety of media: pencil, ink, charcoal, watercolors. There was a wide range of skill levels here; artists ranged in age from senior padawans to retired, some very skilled, some the most casual hobbyists. Both Bes and Quinlan recognized a name or two. Sister Drish had done a study in pastels. One of Quinlan’s agemates had done a bunch of small drawings of the different positions in a dance routine, not unlike Master Si’s salle painting. And up in the corner, they both recognized Obi-Wan Kenobi’s name.

It was a fairly large charcoal drawing of one of the dancers, and it captured the graceful and elegant lines of her body. Both Quin and Bes ran their fingers over it, not quite touching, feeling the attention to form, the appreciation for the beauty and skill of the dancer. It was similar in execution to what he referred to as his scribbles, but this one was on a larger scale and more skillfully done. Clearly, he was getting back into practice.

“He’s very good,” Bes noted. “Hopefully we’ll see more of his work in the future.”

Quin’s hand lingered over the drawing. “I hope so.”

After a few minutes more they headed to the last display in the exhibit. This set was a full gallery wall of paintings of various Jedi dancers. Several were from centuries past. One was quite fresh; Quin was fairly certain he knew the man from the Knight’s Tower, though not from his floor. Master Coorlis was not depicted, but there was a painting of Master Silvanus, done by a Jedi named Gris Reddy. He was very young in the painting, his body much leaner than he was in later years. He was standing at the ballet barre, one arm arcing over his head, one leg straight, the other slightly bent, only the toes touching the floor. He was dressed in a plain, blue leotard that highlighted his well-defined muscles, and he had a wide silk scarf draped across his neck and over his shoulders. It seemed an odd choice to Quinlan and he said as much.

“You’re right, it is unusual,” Bes agreed. Still, it had been painted before he had been born. “Master Si was definitely secure with his masculinity, but not afraid of his feminine side,” Bes shrugged. “Still, he’s very young here.”

“Do you know the artist?” Quinlan asked.

“Gris Reddy? Yes, he was a contemporary of Si. Maybe a little older. Brilliant man. Worked in Archives in Information Logistics. Spent long hours waiting for intel to come in. Used to paint while he was waiting. He and Si were good friends with each other and also with Nico Aleut. I know Nico sold some of Gris’s work. He even did a show once.”

“He was very talented,” Quinlan held his fingers over the painting, frowning. “That’s weird.”

“What is?” Bes stood up so he could get a reading from the painting as well.

“There’s worry here. The artist was worried about the subject, though it’s not depicted in the painting.” He moved his hands over the painting again. “Especially around the scarf and,” he paused. “He thinks he’s too thin.”

“Yes, I feel that.” Bes’s fingers hovered over the scarf and throat. “Si suffered some sort of neck injury when he was young. That might be why he has the scarf on.”

Quinlan stepped back, looking over the work. “That must have been an interesting time to be in the arts. Lots of talent back then.”

“The galaxy was a little more relaxed then. More time to develop creative talents, not the constant work you young knights live with now.” Bes sighed. “It’s good to see you young people still get to make art.”

They continued down the wall, looking at the paintings, large and small, old and new, realistic and abstract. They were almost to the end of the wall when they found one more painting by Master Silvanus. This was a very long canvas, showing a male dancer posing to show off his physique. The man in the painting had an almost sly, flirty grin on his face. Most surprisingly, he had not one but two prosthetic limbs; his left leg ended below the knee and his left arm ended above the elbow. The prosthetic limbs were metallic, not stylized to masquerade as flesh, but were true to life in articulation and he was holding the position as if he were not wearing prosthetics at all. He had unusual markings on the left side of his body that Quin suspected were burn scars. Together, the scars and prosthetics might have made him less attractive, but he was posed and depicted as a form to be admired, the prosthetics seamlessly melding into the flesh, the arcs of his movements continuing all the way to his metal fingers and toes. The painting was from a time when Si was quite young, even earlier than Reddy’s painting. Quin let his hand hover over the canvas and felt admiration, respect, desire.

Bes stared up at the canvas, open-mouthed. It was not a painting he had ever seen before.

“Do you know the subject?” Quin asked.

“I used to, a long time ago. Not when he was young.” Bes kept looking the painting up and down. He could not remember ever seeing an amputee depicted in this way. Strong. Sexy. Beautiful. That Si had been the one to do so was doing things to his serenity that he hoped like hell Quinlan was oblivious to.

“That’s Knight Elton Pike, if I’m not mistaken. I of course knew him when he was older.” He frowned in thought. “He didn’t dance anymore when I knew him and I honestly _don’t_ remember ever seeing him with Si, but he was a field Jedi who was in a bad speeder crash. He was able to return to the field despite his prosthetics and he specialized in Inner rim politics. When he got older his injuries were taking their toll and he opted to get a law degree. He ended up becoming a legal analyst at a satellite facility. Worked with him a few times. He could be a bit abrasive but was very skilled professionally. He retired to the home on Trell. Can’t recall when he died, it was a long time ago.”

Quin stepped back from the painting, hoping he wasn’t making Bes uncomfortable. “Well, it definitely feels like young Master Si was _very_ , um, _familiar_ with him.”

“Yes,” Bes marveled at the desire, the raw sexual energy imprinted on the work, so much so that even _he_ could feel it, more than eighty years later. “It certainly does. Strange. Never heard Si mention him.”

“Maybe they broke up.” There were certainly former lovers in Quinlan’s life he would happily never see again. “Still, there was definitely some sort of hot affair going on.”

“We were all young once,” Bes mused.

“You’re not that old, Master Bes.”

Bes chuckled, but his Force presence was brighter than it had been. “You lie very sweetly, Quinlan.”

Quinlan laughed heartily. “Come on, Master Bes. Let’s get lunch.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

* * *

Their usual café had their usual table open, away from the hubbub of the main dining hall. Their usual server greeted them with a smile, then put a fresh tablecloth on the table while Bes parked his scooter, then pulled out Bes’s chair while Quinlan sat down across from him and read the specials.

“That was a very good show this week,” Quin grinned as the server brought cold water and a pot of hot tea. “I can’t remember the last time so many of the subjects and artists were people you knew personally.”

“Me neither,” Bes grinned. “If you’re still around next week, Knight Loris is curating an exhibit in the Archives Gallery of historical Jedi portraits. She’s trying to put together a book and she got started on it digging out a scan of that portrait of Yoda. I don’t know how many originals will be displayed, but it sounded like something you would enjoy.”

“It _is_ ,” Quin’s eyes lit up. “Hopefully it will be up for a while if I get sent out before the opening. Are they showing the original of Yoda’s painting?”

“I don’t know,” Bes peeked at his menu through his reading glasses. “I don’t know how well preserved the original is, or if it was ever sold.”

“It would be interesting to feel what people thought of him when he was young,” Quinlan mused.

“It’s been interesting to hear Si talk about him,” Bes pondered the sandwiches. “He’s much less rigid and formal than people think he is.”

Quin snorted. “Kenobi says the same thing. Obi-Wan’s much more proper around the Grandmaster than Master Silvanus is, of course, but according to him, the Grandmaster drinks ale, can swear like a space pirate, and is dangerous to play sabacc with, but prefers Breggle.”

Bes snorted. “The last one I knew, growing up with Yan Dooku. Yoda had made him learn sabacc since many a Jedi has been forced to save their skin gambling. He learned how but was advised never to use it because his attitude would get him shivved faster than his disproportionate winnings.”

“Yes, it’s best not to antagonize professional gamblers. Knight Jerrold’s fourth rule of surviving in the Outer Rim. Just after ‘don’t piss off the Hutts.’”

Bes smiled. “That’s a good one in general, but at least you know how to set one on fire if you need to.”

“Kressa and I have been practicing on ricochet. No directional control yet, but we’re getting better on timing.”

“Good job,” Bes beamed. “Keep at it. I know it will come in handy.”

Quin grinned back. “Me too.”

The server came to get their orders, unsurprised when they opted to get their usual choices. Quin preferred to think of it as ritual rather than rut.

“Does Master Si ever go to the art display?” Quin asked after the server left. There was a notebook left out for artists who were still alive to comment on their work, and for viewers to leave feedback, but Quinlan could not recall Si doing so, even though his work did seem to show up fairly frequently.

“Not that I know of,” Bes sighed. “You probably wouldn’t know to look at him, but Si’s developed a bit of anxiety about leaving the home alone. That’s why Yoda’s been recruiting me to try to draw him out.”

Quinlan gave him a suspicious look. “Really? I thought he was trying to set the two of you up.”

Bes sipped at his water, trying to head off a blush. “Why do you think that?”

Quin rolled his eyes. “He was sharing little looks with Kenobi while he was making his less than subtle suggestion that you get Master Si out of the Temple. I don’t know how Kenobi might fit in the plan, other than being a confidante though.”

Bes paused, obviously thinking it over. “Master Yoda could just be encouraging a platonic relationship.” Bes’s tone was cautious, but hopeful.

“He looked a little too gleeful,” Quin sipped at his tea, then frowned suddenly. “Wait, I thought you said Master Si was in a relationship. Why isn’t Master Yoda encouraging _his_ partner to get him out more?”

Bes froze, at a loss for how best to explain this.

“Bes? What’s the matter?” Quin looked very concerned.

“Master Si _is_ in a relationship, though he has indicated recently it is _not_ exclusive.”

Quinlan’s face lit up in encouragement. “What did I tell you? You should go for it, Master Bes.”

Bes felt his face begin to blush. “Um, well.”

“The worst he could say is no.”

Bes felt himself shrug, at a loss for words.

“Of course, you’ll have to be able to share. I don’t actually know how monogamous you are.”

Bes tried to figure out how they had gotten into this conversation.

“And you have to be careful. Some partners can get possessive, even if they aren’t exclusive. And I don’t want you getting down on yourself because you think this other person is better than you. You are very deserving of love, Bes.”

For a moment Bes looked indignant. “I’m old enough to know about polyamorous relationships, Quinlan. I _was_ young once.”

“I know,” Quinlan looked down, contrite. “I want you to be happy, but I don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t. I know you’re trying to be encouraging and protective.” He patted the younger man gently on the sleeve. “I’m a grownup. I can handle my own life. But it’s sweet of you to worry.” Bes was careful to not actually touch Quinlan’s arm, but not careful enough. Quin gave him a suspicious look, then grabbed his fingers when Bes moved to withdraw. He released them immediately, before Bes could pull away.

Bes stared at him, his face gone slightly pale.

Quinlan’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “I _knew_ something was different. Kriff, Bes. Did you get laid?”

Bes lowered his head into his hands, embarrassment at war with an urge to confess everything.

“No,” he managed to speak quietly, choking down giggles fighting their way up from his chest.

Quin opened his mouth to apologize, though he didn’t quite believe the denial.

“I got _kissed_ ,” Bes couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

“Oh.” _Well then_. His psychometry had not failed, just over-estimated. “Was it good?”

Bes nodded, grinning with delight.

Quin looked at him, suspicious. “Was it Master Si?”

Bes didn’t even try to hide his blush. “Yes.”

Quin grinned at him. “Good for you.”

Bes took a deep breath and let it out. “It was just a kiss. But it was very good, and it’s been a very long time.”

Quin frowned, trying to remember the last time Bes had dated anyone that he knew about. Bes tended to be very private about it. “How long?”

Bes looked away. “I had my own legs then.”

“Oh, Master Bes,” Quinlan winced. “That’s too long.”

Bes shrugged. “I haven’t been comfortable in my own skin for a long time. And I have deep scars that I keep covered. And prosthetic legs. It’s hard. I’m not the same person I used to be. But,” He looked Quin in the eye, hopeful again. “Si said we could go slow and see if it works.” Bes sighed. “He told me that his lover wouldn’t be upset, but _I_ had to accept their relationship, which I already knew about.”

Quin couldn’t have stopped his smile if he tried. “So what changed? Did you tell him, or did he figure it out?”

Bes rolled his eyes at himself. “I had to tell him. I was getting embarrassing. He had no idea.” Bes looked down. “We’ve been talking more, and . . .” he tried to put it into words. “He considered me a friend already. He noticed me as a person. He remembered me when I was young. He just didn’t think I saw him that way. I thought he saw me as a kid, and he thought I saw him as an old man.”

Their food arrived. They thanked the server and waiting until they were alone to continue.

“Well, he _is_ a centenarian, and you’re still a young buck in your seventies,” Quin’s eyes twinkled. “So, Master Si is a good kisser?”

Bes smiled to himself, his joy obvious despite his efforts to maintain Jedi cool. “Oh, Quinlan. I could feel it in the toes I no longer have.”

Quin grinned back. “Way too long, Bes.”

“And he has almost all of his own _teeth_! That’s huge in the rest home.”

Quinlan laughed outright. Psychometric persons learned way too much about their partner’s dental work.

“You know I have the partial,” Bes kept his voice low. “Always meant to get implants, never did. Si had an implant and a few crowns, but his own teeth. No dentures.”

“He wasn’t a field Jedi. That’s easier on teeth.”

“It is. Still, that’s hot for old people.” Bes laughed at himself.

“So are you two planning to kiss again? Or do more?”

“Yes.” Bes was both shy and excited. “We’re still at the talking stage, and he explained he has limitations on what he can do.”

“The hands?” Quin asked.

“Yes.” Bes’s ears turned a bit pink, but he was managing his emotions better now that he had gotten it out. “He said the tremors make some things difficult, just like my own injuries can put limits on or restrict some things. _But_ he was used to being creative and patient. If I am patient too, there is, hmm, plenty we could do to occupy our time.”

Quinlan laughed outright. “Sounds like he’ll be good for you.” He shook his head. “Was this before or after you helped him buy clothes and checked out his ass?”

Bes pressed his lips together, but his eyes danced. “After.” He sighed, trying to be serious. “He’s still very fit. Talks as if he’s an old man, but he looks younger than I do,” he shrugged. “I’m nervous about him seeing me the way I am.”

“He _is_ an artist, Bes. He probably doesn’t see beauty the same way you do. He clearly saw something in that Knight Pike. And you don’t hide your prosthetics. It’s not as if he doesn’t know.”

“It can be different up close. To see the stumps. To see the leg just end. To feel the dissonance in the Force. I don’t think Si is particularly psychometric, but he is very strong in the Force. You don’t get to be Yoda’s padawan if you’re weak in the Force.”

Quin looked at him sharply. _Take him as my padawan I should have_. But Bes continued on.

“I worry it will be off-putting. I worry that my gut will be off-putting. I worry about the scars you haven’t seen, that only healers and therapists see.”

“Isn’t one of the Battlemaster’s jobs to get injured Jedi back in the field?”

“Yes.” Bes was quiet.

“So he’s probably seen scars and injuries before. And you saw that painting with the scarf. He’s probably been the scarred survivor before. And he _clearly_ had no problem taking someone to his bed who was short a full set of limbs. I’m not a seer, Bes, but I think it will be fine, if you can handle his terms and limitations.”

“Yes,” Bes looked up, smiling shyly. “It’s hard to try again, but . . . I think it might be worth it.”

“I’m very happy for you.” Quinlan scraped up the last of his food onto his fork. “So, do you have any dates planned?”

“He’s coming over for tea tomorrow.” Bes’s whole face had lit up. “I have to make the tea of course, but he said we could talk more and see what happens.”

“Do you know his other lover? Are you friendly with this person?”

“Oh yes, I know them quite well.”

Quin noticed the gender-neutral pronoun, but assumed Bes was preserving Master Si’s privacy rather than referring to a gender-neutral individual.

“We’re all good friends. Master Si’s lover isn’t retired and can’t visit as often as they’d like. Worries about Si being alone too much.”

Quin snorted. “Sounds like Master Yoda.”

“Yes, well,” Bes tried to sound nonchalant. “I think they’re on the same page there.”

“Good.” Quin held out a hand, not wanting to be rude. “I’m very happy for you. I’m sorry I pried, but I’m so glad to hear what happened.”

Bes lay his hand over Quinlan’s, just fingertips touching, knowing his young friend was quite sensitive. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Quinlan could sense Bes’s happiness, a feeling of an old burden finally put down, and tremendous hope and joy for the self, which for Bes had not happened for a very long time. He also got a faint sense memory of the kiss itself, the shock, the rush, the awe of really feeling Master Si in the Force, a pure brilliant light, a huge star, so often kept hidden, dimmed by shields and privacy. Not quite the rumble of Yoda’s sheer strength, and different as it was coming from Bes’s perspective, but the power hidden there was stunning, even secondhand. It was exhilarating.

“He really can levitate liquids, can’t he?”

Bes broke out into peals of laughter, nodding.

Quin joined in. “Oh, Bes. You should have told him sooner.”

“Better late than never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what are your thoughts about Jedi art? Jedi relationships? Bes's insights into what Si might be thinking? 
> 
> Next chapter we'll revisit Cin and how he's dealing with both the Sith crisis and Master Jinn.


	18. Part XVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vygor has a drop in consultation, Cin deploys his secret weapon, there are rumors on the South Terrace and Qui-Gon Jinn steps in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from Simon & Garfunkel's _Bridge Over Troubled Water_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WrcwRt6J32o

_When you're weary, feeling small,_

_When tears are in your eyes,_

_I will dry them all._

_I'm on your side._

_Oh when times get rough_

_And friends just can't be found_

_Like a bridge over troubled water_

_I will lay me down._

\-- Paul Simon, _Bridge Over Troubled Waters_

“Good morning, Ms. Jessren,” Healer Vygor stepped into the waiting room in the Therapist’s Wing of the Health Complex and began pouring himself a cup of hot tea from the large pot. “Anything change since yesterday?”

“Yes,” she sounded unusually nervous. “Your 09:00 had to cancel, got sent into the field, the records for the staff meeting finally arrived and are in your inbox, and you have a walk in,” she gestured toward the patient chairs.

Vygor turned to see Master Yoda seated in a chair, watching him expectantly, sipping his tea.

“Good morning, Grandmaster,” Vygor bowed. “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, talk we must,” Yoda returned the bow with a nod. “Felt I did time this morning you might have?”

“Apparently I had a cancellation, so yes,” he opened his office door. “Please, come in."

Yoda slid off his chair and followed Vygor into the office.

Vygor took a sip of his tea. “Hmm, good tea today.”

“Have to let it steep you do. Start with cold water you must.”

“You made the tea?”

“Got here early I did.”

Vygor shot Ms. Jessren a reassuring look as he closed the door. She picked up her own cup and took a sip. It really did taste better than usual, though the lecture and demonstration had been unexpected.

Master Yoda put his teacup on a side table, then climbed onto the large, round footstool he preferred to sit on in Vygor’s office. Vygor unrolled a meditation mat and placed it behind the other footstool, then sat down on the mat, using the stool as a desk so he could talk with the Grandmaster eye to eye.

“Is this a personal or professional call?” Vygor asked.

Yoda folded his hands in his lap. “Both. Personal for me it is. Professional for you it is.”

“Okay,” Vygor took a moment to get himself in the therapist mindset. “What do you want to discuss?”

“Kenobi,” Yoda sighed. “Concerned for him I am. No issue there has been with work, missions, performance,” he clarified. “But on a personal level, off something is.”

“Ah.” Vygor mentally reviewed the situation as he knew it. At this point Yoda was speaking as a concerned friend, not as Grandmaster, but that could change depending on the seriousness of the situation.  
  
“Obi-wan and I have continued our sessions, and in general he is progressing and developing as I would have expected. He is currently experiencing an emotional issue that we are working through, but I have not been concerned enough to bring it up to anyone in regards to his status as a Jedi, nor his duty status. I take it you have some concerns you think I’m not aware of?” Such was typical if Yoda was consulting about it as a friend rather than an authority figure.

“Perhaps,” the small master frowned. “Know you might already. Cautious I am being. Troubled he is, see this I can, but confide in me he has not.” Yoda looked genuinely worried and a bit hurt. “Withdrawn he has been. Avoiding me he is. Hopeful I am if still confiding in you he is. Understand I do if tell me what the problem is you cannot, but . . . still wounded he is, even though well he was doing.”

Vygor was quiet, absorbing this. “I knew he had become more withdrawn socially in general, he has been staying in when in Temple, trying to work through his current difficulties. I am surprised it had extended to you as well. It’s very clear that he still holds in you in high esteem, Master.”

Yoda looked more worried. “Withdrawn from others also he has?” He rubbed at his chin, thinking. “Nosey I am not trying to be, but affect duty fitness this might?”

“I don’t think so,” Vygor’s tone was cautious. “Not yet anyway. His issue is of a personal nature, and he’s taken pains to ensure it will not interfere with his duties inside and outside the Temple, which is partly why he may be sacrificing his social life to deal with it. I have been questioning him carefully about his work in the event I _do_ have to make a fitness-for-duty report. He is aware of this and would very much want to avoid that. Speaking to you as Grandmaster, has his performance been slipping?”

“No.” Yoda was quite firm on that point. “That’s why as a friend I am coming. Work in field exemplary is. Work in Temple excellent is. No flaw or complaint causing concern is. But . . . out of balance he feels outside of duty. Eventually affect work that will, but hurt enough that can now. See him in pain I do not want. Let me help he has not.”

“So you are not actually concerned in regards to his performance, only because you know him particularly well and can spot problems while they are small?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re concerned because normally he readily discusses his problems with you when you ask, but this time he has withdrawn, both personally and professionally?”

“Yes.”

“Has he been requesting more out of Temple missions?” Vygor asked.

“Hmm,” Yoda frowned. “He has. Young knights return to mission roster 3 days from return by default if on rest period are not. Request change they can. Ask for extra day or two usually. Request to be home for event or appointment they can. Eller noticed requested _less_ time he did. Only one rest day requested. Anxious to field to return. Unusual that is.”

“He did not tell me about the request, but I did know he wanted to return to the field as soon as possible. He has a less difficult time coping with his issue when he is not home. Was his request successful?”

“No,” Yoda shook his head. “Flagged by Medical. Vaccine boosters needed. Stay full week in Temple he must, check titers healers must.”

“Hmm. I imagine he would not be pleased by this under the current circumstances. I take it he has not been using this time to socialize with you as he normally would?”

“Yes,” Yoda slumped a little. “Upset I would not be if other friends visiting with he was, but do so he is not. Understand you do why concern me this does.”

“I think I do.” Vygor debated how much he could ethically tell Master Yoda. He did know from Temple scuttlebutt that Master Yoda had had a padawan-turned-knight long ago who had become quite depressed and had to be hospitalized. Rumor had it the young knight had attempted suicide, but it was less clear whether this part was true. Regardless, Vygor knew Yoda felt as if Obi-Wan had been his padawan, and even for a former half-padawan, his fears and concerns were entirely normal. However, former was very different from current in how these things were handled professionally.

“You do understand that as his therapist there is only so much I can disclose to you, yes?”

“Yes.” Yoda looked genuinely upset but accepted this.

“And as Grandmaster, you only have grounds to ask about what might affect Obi-Wan professionally, yes?”

“Yes,” Yoda sighed. “Mind trick you I will not, but very concerned I am.”

“You are very strong in the Force, Master Yoda, and very wise. Please know I am aware of this and respect it.”

“Know this I do. Respect your skills and obligations I do. Part of why sent Obi-wan to you I did.”

Vygor nodded. “Okay. As his friend, here is what I feel I can safely tell you without betraying his confidence. He is having a personal issue, it is not unexpected in terms of his psychological makeup, and while difficult, is not indicative of a pathological problem, but instead a developmental difficulty.”

“Growing pains?” Yoda asked.

“Psychologically, yes,” Vygor nodded. “I also want to thank you for bringing the scope of his social withdrawal to my attention. I suspect his has been downplaying it and if it escalates, that will be something that may start to affect his duty fitness, though that doesn’t appear to be the case now.” He looked Yoda in the eye. “For someone like Obi-Wan, concerns about duty fitness can be a great motivator for dealing with issues.”

“Careful we must be,” Yoda cautioned. “Push him too hard we do not want. Do that himself he does already.”

“I know,” Vygor tried to look reassuring. “Now, as for his avoidance of you, while he hasn’t confided that, I do think I understand his motivations.”

Yoda looked at him expectantly.

“He is very distressed and embarrassed by his issue and he’s hoping to keep it private until he has come to terms with it. You are very insightful and strong in the Force. I suspect he fears you would deduce his difficulties simply because you know him so well.”

“A problem with _me_ he has not?” Yoda asked.

“I don’t think so. He has not mentioned you in regards to it at all.”

“Hmm,” Yoda frowned again, thinking it over. It wouldn’t be the first time a Jedi avoided him, convinced he could read their minds. In Obi-Wan’s case he sometimes _could_ , but it was unusual for the young man to be bothered by this.

Vygor waited until he had Yoda’s attention before he continued. “Because you are the Grandmaster, and are inquiring out of general concern, and because this is related to an issue that has been brought to the Council’s attention, I can tell you a little more.”

Yoda’s expression changed to become more emotionally neutral, obviously shifting his mental outlook to a professional view.

“As you know, prior to his trials, then Padawan Kenobi disclosed there were lapses in his training and while the Council chose to knight him, we were all aware that issues could develop in the future.”

“Developed an issue has?” Yoda asked, face neutral.

“An issue yes, but as I said, not unexpected, nor at this point pathological. I do not know if the Council is specifically aware, but it should not be surprising given his history that as part of his therapy Obi-Wan has been exploring his sexual feelings and identity as he wasn’t given this opportunity as a padawan.”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded. “Recommended this was as part of post-knighting developmental goals.” As significant as knighting was, it was seen as a step in growth, not an end.

Vygor was quiet, carefully considering what to reveal and what to keep private. “As you know from my own reports and no doubt from your own pre and post-Trials evaluations, Knight Kenobi tends toward the asexual end of the spectrum.”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded. “Noticed this when teenager he was I did.”

Vygor tried to hide his surprise that Yoda had known for that long, but found it refreshing that he didn’t seem to think it was a problem in and of itself. “Yes. We’ve been discussing his feelings and development since his trials and while this descriptor is still accurate, it is not comprehensive nor complete. There have been indications since his knighting that Obi-Wan’s mind may be developing sexually.”

“Yes.” Again, Yoda did not seem surprised. “Discuss some of this we have. Tell you more I think he does.”

“Hmm.” Vygor was surprised Obi-Wan had disclosed that much to Master Yoda, but they were very close. “As I said, he is embarrassed with regards to current issues and I think he feels you would be disappointed in his difficulty finding balance under the circumstances.”

“Hmm, yes, understand that I can. Very balanced he has been many months, much progress. Regress you think he has?”

“No, _I_ don’t. _He_ does,” Vygor clarified. “As I said, these issues are very expected and normal.”

Yoda sighed, mildly frustrated that Vygor could not speak plainly. “Concern I do have about his balance.” Yoda’s tone was cautious, not wanting to overstep. “Very developed his Force connection and attunement is for age. Asset this has been when assigning missions the Council has. If less balanced he is, concern on mission this could be.”

Vygor nodded, taking the Grandmaster’s statement into account, trying to again determine how much he could say. “I see. Well, as I said, Knight Kenobi’s personal issue is distressful to him and he has disclosed that he feels more in balance when away from the Temple. While this is a means of avoidance of the problem as he sees it, it indicates for the moment that he is _not_ inhibited in carrying out his duties, and the distance for now is helping him cope with his changing feelings and less serene emotions.”

Yoda frowned, forehead wrinkling even more than usual. “Problems with Master Jinn are there? Anger over treatment? Distress over recent incident?”

“Ah, no. You’re referring to Master Jinn hitting on him in the Games Garden?”

Yoda’s expression became particularly sour. “Yes.”

“ _That_ he has handled quite well. He was disturbed and disgusted, but he had been warned by Knight Carlin and myself that Master Jinn did not recognize him, which I think helped him take it less personally. It also helped him see that much of his difficulties with Master Jinn stemmed from his role as a padawan and less from qualities specific to himself. That Master Jinn found him acceptable, even impressive when he _didn’t_ know who he was proved revelatory.”

“Hmm,” Yoda seemed pleased by this. “Chance to discuss this we have not had since happened it did. Very disturbed that day he was.” He frowned, feeling with the Force, trying to get at the root of the problem. “If not an issue with Master Jinn, the problem what is?”

Vygor opted to sip his tea.

Yoda scowled at him. “Helpful you are not.”

Vygor shrugged. “You are wise Master Yoda. I’m sure you can either solve this mystery with what I have been able to tell you, or you can find a loophole to ask the right question.”

“Very good you are, protective of patients.”

“Flattery is not the key, Master.”

Yoda snorted. “Thinking aloud I was.” He turned over the details and clues. “Hmm. Normal development, pathological not. Issue with Qui-Gon it is not.” He again reached for the Force, but it was strangely elusive. He looked back at Vygor, speculative. “Embarrassed you say. Out of balance. Concerned you are not.”

“I am concerned,” Vygor emptied his teacup and looked at the bottom, wishing the cup had been larger. It was very good tea that morning. “He’s withdrawing and isolating himself. I don’t want that to develop into depression or some other pathology. But the issue in and of itself does not concern me.”

Yoda frowned again, turning the problem over in his mind, remembering his own conversations with Obi-Wan, as well as what the Force had told him. He remembered being surprised that Obi-Wan’s potential relationship with Quinlan Vos had shifted further forward in time. He had thought this was because their platonic relationship was growing as well (though apparently not now), but there was another possibility.

“Develop feelings he has for someone?” Yoda asked. “Sexual feelings he has?”

Vygor sighed. “That would certainly cause him confusion and distress given his history.”

“Hmm, yes, distressful that is. Find balance as adult, feel comfortable with self, then SPLAT, so messy emotions become.”

Vygor chuckled but could neither confirm nor deny it. “Sounds as if you’ve seen this before, Master.”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Lived it I did. Got first crush in twenties I did. Thought so grown up I was. Found out adult I was not. Normal age for puberty it was.” He shrugged. “Raised by humans I was.” He sighed. “Poor young man. Twenty-seven very late for this to come is. Requesting missions to avoid crush he is?”

“That is a question I can reasonably answer. Yes, I think he is.”

“Pursuing interest he is not?”

Vygor shook his head. “He his choosing avoidance. He feels this is his only course professionally and personally but is continuing to have difficulties in resolving the underlying emotions.”

Yoda did not miss the breadcrumbs Vygor had left him. “Why professional issue this is?”

Vygor sighed. “Part of the issue is attachment. As a Jedi Knight, attachment is forbidden. If this is his first true infatuation with sexual aspects, his emotions are running much higher than he has experienced before.”

“Heh, yes. Quite a shock to the system it can be.”

“Another issue is so far as he can determine, his romantic love is unrequited.”

Yoda’s ears dropped in disappointment. The last thing his almost padawan needed was another person he cared for rejecting his love. “Certain this is?”

“ _He_ is certain. I don’t know.”

Yoda gave him a questioning look.

“He has not disclosed the identity of his love interest.”

“Helpful that is not.”

“It’s not,” Vygor agreed. “As I said he’s very embarrassed about the whole thing. He has been very clear that is not _me_ , he is aware transference is a known psychological issue and that would probably help him cope if that were the case. He has also been clear it is not Master Jinn. He has said he would consider that a serious psychological regression but given their history he wouldn’t be as embarrassed by it, as feelings for one’s master are socially normal, even if they aren’t reciprocated.”

“Hrmm. Consider his feelings abnormal does he?”

“He does,” Vygor looked sad. “He feels they are abnormal for him, and from his point of view they are. In a few years I have hopes he will have integrated them into his concept of his normal self.”

“Yes. Feel strange it must.”

“He also feels his feelings are socially abnormal. He feels the object of his feelings is inappropriate.”

Yoda paused, very concerned. “Inappropriate how it is?”

“I’m not entirely certain. He was very clear it was not an issue of legality, only appropriateness. He was in fact so distressed by it I asked if this person was perhaps underage. He assured me they were not, that he is the junior person in this non-relationship. My impression is he feels this person is above his station, that it is socially unacceptable for him to express his feelings, either publicly or to his love interest, beyond them just not being reciprocated.’

“Explain why has he?”

“No. He has been open about his feelings, but very private about who they concern.” Vygor sighed, trying to explain when he was equally in the dark. “He seems to feel that even entertaining these feelings is disrespectful, which is why I don’t think it’s a peer.”

“Disclose gender he has not?”

“No. Clues have been very thin. I suspect he fears I will think less of him if I knew, even though he has no intention of acting on them. However, I honestly don’t think the sex or gender of this person is of a concern to him.”

“When sexual awakening at his age is, shocking regardless of orientation it is.”

“I agree. I confess, I have tried to figure it out, I’ve even made guesses, hoping to alleviate his fear of judgement. He has always denied it, but I don’t think he’s lied so I assume my guesses were incorrect.”

“Hrmm,” Yoda pondered the available clues. “Someone who on Coruscant is, above his station.” He looked at Vygor. “Bail or Rouge Organa?”

“Huh, I hadn’t asked that. They would certainly be above his station, socially.”

“Inappropriate yes, illegal not.” Yoda drained his own tea, the dregs gone cold. “Distant cousins they are.”

“I suspect it may be someone in the Temple. He’s been keeping to his rooms.”

“He has,” Yoda agreed. “Someone he respects . . . Master Drallig?”

“The Battlemaster?” Vygor considered it. “He doesn’t talk about him much, but he does respect him very much.”

Yoda sighed. “Barking up wrong tree that would be. Prefer women Cin does.” He thought more. “Master Pythia?”

“The seer? He respects her, but I think she sexually intimidates him. Nothing abusive, but she seems a bit brash for him to trust with his feelings.”

“Hrmm,” Yoda continued to ponder. “Knight Jerrold perhaps. See him as a person Marcus always did, just an extension of Master Jinn not.”

Vygor shrugged, not knowing Knight Jerrold.

“Very odd this is. Examined him I have in the Force. Romantic potentials I have seen for him, but none soon to be.”

Vygor sighed. “This could be a new development,” he suggested. “Or he could be correct, and his feelings are unrequited, and no potential exists.” He paused, again being careful what to disclose. “He feels he has been open to the Force and has sought guidance through meditative exercises. He feels he has been led astray, as if the Force has betrayed him or abandoned him at times. At other times he feels the fault must lie in himself. His faith in the Force has been shaken somewhat by his doubts, but I do not sense darkness in him.”

“Very pure light he has. Noticed this others have. Xanatos turned to darkness when only light Qui-Gon gave him. Kept in Xanatos’s shadow Obi-Wan was for twelve years and turned he did not.” He sighed. “Crisis of faith this is. So noted for assignment roster. Deal with this he must, but torment him we will not.”

“He has another appointment before the healers are done with him,” Vygor reported. “I will inform you if there are any new developments that might affect his mission readiness.”

“Yes,” Yoda slipped off the ottoman and stepped forward, patting Vygor’s arm. “Good man you are. Good therapist. Know I do hard line to walk you have. Thank you for speaking with me I do.”

“Thank you for understanding my limitations, Grandmaster.”

Yoda nodded, then paused, sensing something in the Force. “Refill tea you _should_. Another walk in you will get. Long appointment this will be.”

Vygor followed him to the door, opening it for him. Yoda had just stepped out into the waiting room when Bri’lss burst in, her face red and tearful. Yoda began radiating calm before his presence exacerbated the situation. Ms. Jessren held up her taffy jar.

“Oh, Bri’lss, are you here to see me?”

The girl nodded, more tears falling suddenly. Yoda slipped out behind her as she stumbled toward Vygor.

“Come in. My schedule is open. Let’s get you a tea. Master Yoda made it this morning.” He poured them both a cup, emptying the pot. Ms. Jessren wondered if she should try to replicate the technique.

“Master Yoda needs therapy?” Bri’lss asked, tearfully.

“Sometimes. Sometimes he’s just being a friend to a patient.” He handed her one of the cups. “Come on in. We’ll wipe your eyes and sip our tea and then we’ll talk, okay?”

“Okay.”

Yoda was right. It was a _very_ long session.

* * *

“Dinner!” Master Gi-Ho called as he entered the training staff room, bags of commissary take away meals in both arms. “Time to refuel.”

Master Nori came in and began helping to unload the bags, putting the containers at the usual places at the table when they had lunch, or the rare dinner meeting.

“Thanks, Gi-Ho,” Master Drallig came in, carrying a large pot of hot tea and began pouring it out into cups, including an ancient, chipped, orange cup that said _Breggle Players Do it Hands Free_.

Nori raised an eyebrow. “Is Master Yoda joining us?”

“He is,” Cin confirmed. “He wanted to hear our strategy going in, and he wants to observe from the lounge.”

Gi-Ho frowned. “Because he wants to hear what the masters have to say or because he wants to make sure Jinn gets his head out of his ass?”

“Both.” Cin began distributing the cups. Nori retrieved the giant reference book of saber forms that Master Yoda sat on when he joined them for meetings and put it in his usual chair. “He seems to be most interested in Master Jinn’s reactions, but several of the knights and masters in the group are not often in Temple, so he’s keen to hear their insights.”

“Has there been any word about the Secret Weapon?” Gi-Ho asked, looking worried as he sat down.

Cin shrugged as he opened his food container. “He said he and his friend were going to eat at home but were going to come by early to make sure we were all on the same page.”

Knight Dealen came in, looking nervous as she took her seat. She was younger, and had never known Master Silvanus as a boss, only as an infrequent instructor. “He’s really coming?” she asked. There was a knock on the door.

Cin grinned. “He really is.” He got up and opened the door. Two Jedi, their hoods hiding their faces, slipped in quietly. Both lowered their hoods after Cin closed the door, revealing Master Si and Master Bes, the former with a slightly more stylish haircut then he had worn for the last twenty years. Cin blinked mildly in surprise.

“I don’t think we were spotted,” Si said quietly as he rested his staff in the corner, then tucked his hands into his sleeves. “I wasn’t sure how you wanted to play this.”

Master Bes grinned and held up a box. “And we brought shortbread.”

Gi-Ho and Nori’s eyes lit up. Si always used to bring cookies to dinner meetings.

“Thank you,” Cin gestured for Si and Bes to sit down, feeling strange to be at the head of the table instead of having Si sit there, even though he hadn’t done so for several years when Laelen was Battlemaster and Si was semi-retired.

Si nodded, offering Bes an arm to help him stay steady, then sitting next to him. He raised an eyebrow at the orange cup. “Is Master joining us?”

“Just to observe,” Cin clarified. “Master Jinn is not taking him seriously, but he wants to hear the discussion.” Cin nodded at both of them. “Thank you for coming and helping us out.”

“I’ll do my best to actually be a help.”

“Tea?” Cin asked.

“Decaf?” Caffeine could aggravate Si’s tremor.

“Low-caff green and herbal.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Cin poured out cups for both Si and Bes, then resumed eating his dinner, introducing both of them as the rest of the staff filled out the table, Master Yoda sneaking in through the Security Office with Master K’Trill.

“Plan you have?” Master Yoda asked when everyone was settled and Cin had eaten most of his dinner.

“A general plan,” Cin put down his fork. “For the seminar we give a brief rundown of current threats that are of concern: droids have been getting faster and more powerful, new materials with lightsaber resistance, intel on any other groups of Force users or rumors of rogue Jedi. Fairly standard stuff to start out. Then we get into what occurred on Naboo specifically, what intel we were able to obtain and only then do we get into the video clips of the saber fight.” Cin looked at both Si and Bes. “Have either of you seen the clips before?”

“No,” Bes answered, releasing a little apprehension to the Force.

“I’ve only seen Kenobi fighting alone as part of his evaluation. I wanted to come in with fresh eyes.”

Cin nodded and turned to the staff. “We are concerned and have invited master Si and Master Bes to participate because Master Jinn is joining us and as you all know,” his tone turned self-deprecating. “Master Jinn does not generally take me seriously, nor is he willing to entertain our view of the battle over his own.”

Knight Dealen leaned forward. “So you think he’ll listen to Master Silvanus instead?” she asked skeptically. “Why not Master Yoda?”

“Argued with him I have, listen he will not,” Yoda sighed. “Sided with his padawan he feels I did. Separate issue this is from Kenobi’s trials and Skywalker’s training, but all mixed up in his head they are. Feels he does that follow the will of the Force he did, that wrong he cannot be. Master Silvanus involved in other situations is not. Seen as authority figure he is. Respect Cin Jinn should, but,” Yoda frowned. “Sees Cin as younger, less experienced.” He looked up at Si. “Simet is person that argue with he would, but respect also. Not on Council Simet is. No agenda he has. Honest he will be, even if hurt it does.” He looked Simet up and down. “Very nice you look, Padawan. Show it does that take this seriously you do.” He turned to Bes. “Good job. How convince him did you to change his hair? For years trying I have been.”

Si rolled his eyes. “Perhaps we could discuss fashion later?” He nodded at Cin.

“Yes,” Cin leaned back in his chair, eager to continue, though he did have to agree with Yoda. Si _did_ look very well-dressed and professional. He had assumed Si would show in either the old formal uniforms he had worn to the vigil, or one of his nice sweaters, but apparently, he had gone all out. Cin found himself feeling this crazy plan might actually work. “The rest of the class is made up of masters and senior knights. Several are good friends of Jinn’s including Marcus Jerrold and Urdlea Neff. Given his reputation in the Order, everyone should know of him, if not personally. On the other hand, given their ages, everyone should be quite familiar with Master Silvanus, even if they haven’t seen him recently.”

“How do participants normally react to viewing the clips?” Si asked.

Cin sighed. “Many Jedi have difficulty watching it and processing it. It’s frightening to see and makes them question their faith in the Force. This warrior was quite powerful and skilled. He would have been a challenge to any of us and would have killed many of us. Younger knights tend to be cowed by the footage; they are stunned by the intensity of the fight and realize immediately they are outmatched. Older knights and masters tend more toward denial, at least initially.”

“They’re used to being the best and imagine themselves with the experience of age and the vigor of youth.” Si’s tone indicated this was a familiar problem.

“Exactly,” Cin frowned. “Having Master Jinn in the room might change the dynamic somewhat. People who are familiar with him and with his current physical state are generally quicker to recognize the threat that this poses and are more likely to see mistakes and bad strategy. Younger knights are less likely to see the flaws. And in general, both knights and masters get a bit emotional when Kenobi has to go it alone after Jinn is struck down.”

“Did Kenobi see the mistakes?” Si asked.

“See own flaws first did. See master’s later did.”

“He actually analyzed the battle quite well, but understandably has difficulty watching the footage,” Cin added.

“How much of the fight does Jinn remember?” Si asked. “Considering his injuries, it would not be surprising if he could not.”

“Not sure we are. Remembers first fight on Tattooine he does. Remembers start of fight well he does. Remembers Obi-Wan falling behind he does, can recite mistakes in his padawan’s technique, but own flaws he sees not. Unclear how much stubbornness is, how much denial is, how much hole in memory is.”

“Hmm,” Si was quiet for a moment. “How hard do you want me to push him? From what I’ve heard he is still recovering.”

“Hard,” Yoda’s tone was thoughtful. “But single him out not. If other masters stupid things say, smack them down you should.”

Si looked to Cin. “Am I correct that _you_ are leading the discussion and you want me as a participant to have someone on equal footing with Jinn who is not loyal to him as an agemate, who won’t defer to him as a superior, and who, hopefully, won’t be so distressed by the footage that I’ll be useless?”

“Exactly,” Cin nodded. Gi-Ho looked eager to begin.

“You do understand that he may not take me seriously no matter what I say, don’t you?” Si glanced at Yoda apologetically. “Yan always felt I didn’t make a serious enough commitment to the Order and did not have enough experience in the field to be Battlemaster. He raised Qui-Gon with these attitudes.”

Yoda sighed. “Know this I do. Fortunate for once that here he is not. Keep opinions his to self he will.”

Cin looked around the table. “Alright, unless there are further questions, that covers expectations. Now for logistics.” He turned to Si and Bes. “Master Bes, did you want to participate in the seminar, just sit with Master Si, sit in the observation lounge or sit here in the staff room?”

Bes took one more moment to feel this out with the Force. Si had told him it would be okay if he didn’t want to watch (though he had been anxious when he said so), and he didn’t want to undermine Si’s credibility by appearing to be there as a _helper_. “I have been assisting some of the younger knights with telekinetic Niman techniques. I feel I should take this seminar, so I know what they are up against.” He glanced at Cin and was surprised the Battlemaster looked very supportive. “If possible, I would like to sit next to Master Silvanus, in case he needs help.”

“Help?” Daelen asked.

“With pouring his drinks, or using his data interface,” Bes explained.

“Not a problem,” Cin agreed, then turned to Daelen. “Please make sure the seating is configured for Plan A.”

She nodded and stepped out.

He turned back to Si. “We also dusted off one of the telekinetic interfaces and Gi-Ho tested it, so you should be able to control your own data unit.”

“Actually, I got Master Bert to test it,” Gi-Ho confessed. “All I could get it to do was restart the interface over and over. Master Bert ran it through the checks and set it up when we set up the room.”

“Great.” Both Cin and Si looked very relieved. “Just so you know, we have chilled and room temperature water in the classroom and we’re serving your favorite tea during the break, so you can minimize strain on your voice.”

“I brought lozenges,” Si tapped at his robe pocket and the tin inside rattled. “That’s my biggest concern. It’s been years since I’ve had to speak for a prolonged period, much less had to project my voice. Hopefully it won’t give out before the end.”

Bes looked at him in surprise. He’d always known Si to have a raspy voice, but he had never known it to give out unless he was sick.

“We’ve got us in the good conference room with the best acoustics, so you won’t have to speak loud.”

Si nodded his thanks.

“Alright, we should all finish up and get moving. Participants should arrive in the next twenty-five to thirty minutes. I’ll leave it to your discretion how you two want to arrive. Everyone clear on the plan?”

Everyone agreed, though with differing levels of enthusiasm. Cin looked to Master Yoda. “Do you need anything in the observation lounge, Master?”

Yoda raised his tea mug in thanks. “Windu joining me is. Bringing more tea he is.”

“Good,” Cin nodded. “We will reconvene in twenty-five minutes. You all know what to do.”

Daelen came back in, smiling nervously and assured Master Drallig the seating arrangements had been made. Cin turned back to Si, who was using the Force to unravel the knot on the cookie box. Despite the seriousness of tonight’s project, it felt like old times.

* * *

Qui-Gon Jinn walked through the Training Center toward the classrooms, on the lookout for Jerrold. While his agemate was arguably a poor (if amusing) influence on the young, having a buddy should make sitting through Cin’s class more tolerable. Not that he thought it was a bad idea for the Jedi to discuss the Sith warrior; they would have to communicate or risk getting caught flat-footed the next time one showed up. He just wasn’t sure Cin should be the one leading this class. Being made Battlemaster was an honor of course, but once appointed they rarely left the Temple, thus diluting their effectiveness as they became more and more isolated from conditions in the field. Cin did his best but he hadn’t been out on a mission in nearly a decade. At least Laelen had been smart enough to retire before he got soft.

Qui-Gon followed the posted signs announcing the class. He couldn’t recall the last time he had taken a master’s seminar, probably when Obi-Wan was a teenager and still taking classes himself. He supposed it was his duty as a Jedi to share his impressions of the battle with others, but frankly he’d rather sit with them at the pub recounting stories than pick it apart with Cin. He’d already lived through it and rehashed it with the Council. In his favor, there was a chance that unlike the Council Cin might actually have vague memories of the field.

“Quigs.” Marcus was leaning against a wall outside the classroom. “You actually showed up.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “I owed the Troll a favor.” He stood next to Marcus, waiting for the class to start. “Are they really making all the regional coordinators take this?”

“They are. Can’t blame Cin for not wanting to trust this to memos. Spoke to Clee who took this already. She said Cin encouraged participants to attend the saber clinics in the days after. Had extra masters and instructors attend, even if this isn’t a formal workshop. Apparently, he’s covering this material in all the current workshops as well.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Qui-Gon sighed. “Though I don’t know if it’s the best use of time and resources to pick apart the technique of a dead man.”

“A dead man who almost killed you.”

“Yes, well,” Qui-Gon shifted his weight. “I did live. I suppose it’s my duty to share my knowledge. Though I’d think Cin would have enough with all the Council transcripts for a seminar.”

“Cin doesn’t like to waste opportunities.”

“I know he’s just doing his job.”

“Marcus Jerrold, so good to see you, young man.”

Both men turned to see Master Monti, followed by Urdlea.

“Oh, Master Jinn, I didn’t know you would be presenting in this seminar.” Monti looked very surprised to see him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you from behind.”

Urdlea swallowed a laugh. Monti was a Jedi historian, rarely leaving the Temple, but was considered an expert on historic Sith, so it was little wonder he’d be interested in this seminar for all that he’d probably never fired up his saber outside the Temple in his entire career. He was quite a bit older than any of them, but with his work mostly academic he didn’t feel the need to retire. He had taught all of them at one point or another and never quite realized they were no longer senior padawans.

“Yes, well, I haven’t taken any history classes lately, Master Monti,” Qui-Gon replied. “Still, it’s very good to see you.”

“Are you the surprise Master Drallig was preparing for this section?” Monti asked. “Everyone on the South Terrace was buzzing about it, but I couldn’t confirm anything.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “This is the only seminar I’ve agreed to take, but I don’t know why anyone on the South Terrace would care.”

Urdlea cracked up. She had heard Cin and Gi-Ho were up to something, but it was fairly amusing if they were gabbing about it in the rest home.

“Qui-Gon, Marcus, how are you guys?” Knight Gelf and Master Freelen came down the hall, smiling and shaking hands. “What’s this about the rest home? You moving in, Quigs?” Gelf asked as he slapped Qui-Gon good-naturedly on the shoulder.

“No,” Qui-Gon scoffed. “I’m still living in the Master’s Tower. Even went on a mission a few weeks back. It’s just some anemic scuttlebutt about something Cin’s up to, but I haven’t heard anything.”

Master Freelen snorted, her long hair drifting over her shoulders. “Well _I_ heard something.”

“Oh?” Marcus asked. “What’s Cin cooking up for us?”

She rolled her eyes. “I heard from some young knights who heard from some padawans that the Troll was calling in someone from the South Terrace to join the seminar. Some wrinkled old cuss who wasn’t impressed by the infamous Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Jerrold raised an eyebrow. “Clever if he can pull it off. Can’t think of who it would be.”

Qui-Gon pondered who he knew to be in the rest home who would be healthy and young enough to care. “Laelen maybe?”

There was an abrupt silence.

“Um, Quigs,” Jerrold’s tone was cautious. “Master Laelen passed into the Force.”

“Really?” Qui-Gon didn’t recall his funeral. Battlemaster funerals were kind of a big deal. “When?”

“Few years now. I think it was when you were working out that deal between the Trade Federation and the Hutts.”

“Huh, missed that.” He frowned, a bit sad at the death long passed. “Any other guesses?”

“It would have to be someone well-versed in saber work to make it worth our while, much less Cin’s.”

“Master Maddely?” Urdlea suggested. Like Qui-Gon Jinn, she was also something of a rebel and an excellent duelist, though she wasn’t retired. She also couldn’t resist a debate with Master Jinn at every opportunity.

“I ran into her at the spaceport,” Freelen giggled. “She didn’t know either, but when she found out I was in this class, she told me to tell her what the big surprise was.” She smirked at Qui-Gon, amused he had missed this juicy gossip.

“Master Koffee?” Gelf suggested. “Last I checked he was only retired, not in the rest home, but he would probably give us some good insights.” Master Koffee had been the Kata Master before Master Gi-Ho.

“I thought he moved to the monastery on Correlia to be the token Master of the Brews,” Jerrold frowned. “He was always a beer man.”

“Oh my,” Master Monti put a hand over his mouth, chuckling. “You don’t suppose Cin asked Simet to join us, do you?”

Freelen snickered. “Master Silvanus? He’d certainly qualify as a wrinkled old cuss.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Okay, I believe you when you say Laelen died, but I could have sworn I heard Master Silvanus was dead.”

Everyone went silent again.

“I’m quite sure he’s not,” Monti said cautiously. As in he had visited the South Terrace every so often and was quite certain he had seen him and his jittering hands lurking in the background.

“I don’t think so, Quigs.” Jerrold sounded very sure. “I haven’t heard about him in _years_ , so he might have entered the Palliative Ward, but I’m quite sure I would have heard if he had died. And I certainly would have paid condolences to Master Yoda.”

Qui-Gon agreed he would have too. “Maybe I’m mixing them up,” he conceded. “Master Dooku definitely would have had something to say about it if Silvanus passed while he was still in the Order.”

“Oh, Force yes.” Freelen laughed outright. “Masters Dooku and Silvanus kept things civil, but there was no love lost between them.”

Gelf smiled at Qui-Gon and Monti in turn. “That would pretty awesome though, to hear Master Silvanus’s thoughts about all this. He’d probably have some terrific insights.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “This is a seminar about challenges in the _field_ , Gelf. It’s been how many _decades_ since the old man’s been in the field? Even when he _was_ the Battlemaster?”

Monti looked insulted on Si’s behalf. “Master Silvanus _did_ go out into the field. Not all of those dance classes were really dance classes. He didn’t do a _lot_ of undercover work between his face being on the holonews and his distinctive voice, but he _did_ work in the field, even into his seventies.” _Which is older than you are now_ remained unspoken.

Qui-Gon held up his hands. “Still, that would be, _what_ , twenty years ago?”

Monti said nothing. He knew it was longer and that wouldn’t help his argument.

“Oh come now, Quigs,” Urdlea’s tone was both sweet and scolding. “How many times have you been in the field recently?”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Not many,” he conceded. “But no one is wondering if I’m dead.”

Jerrold rolled his eyes.

“Force, I haven’t thought of Master Silvanus in years,” Freelen snickered. “What was it he used to call you, Quigs?”

Qui-Gon laughed. “Oh, I’m sure I don’t remember his special name for me. And hopefully he doesn’t either.”

Monti’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Quigs, you remember,” Freelen smirked. “What was it? Smartass? Wise-ass?”

Like Monti, Jerrold was staring at something behind Qui-Gon and Freelen.

“ _Jackass._ ”

Qui-Gon felt his stomach drop. There was no mistaking that deep, raspy voice, and it certainly didn’t sound as if it were a Force ghost manifesting.

He turned slowly with Freelen, catching Jerrold’s grim embarrassment on his behalf and Monti’s look of pleased surprise.

“Master Silvanus,” Qui-Gon tried to sound as if he hadn’t been criticizing Simet’s qualifications throughout his career and questioning his state of existence moments before. Freelen was blushing furiously.

“Master Jinn. Master Freelen.” Si was standing tall, his arms crossed into his sleeves, his robe was open from the neck revealing well-tailored clothing, polished boots, and his lightsaber on his belt.

“You’re, um, looking well, Master Silvanus,” Freelen stumbled over her words like a nervous teenager.

Si raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well I’m sure all those decades of in Temple service have kept me young.”

Monti desperately fought down a laugh, the suppressed grin comically distorting his face. Bes, standing beside Si, caught his eye and had to lower his head to keep them both from cracking up.

The chimes rang and the classroom door opened to let them in. For a moment, everyone stood frozen, waiting to see what Simet would do.

The former Battlemaster turned his sharp gaze on Qui-Gon Jinn. Between Qui-Gon’s slightly stooped post-injury posture and Simet’s newly resoled boots and decades of barre routines, Si was still just the slightest bit taller than the other man. Qui-Gon felt himself resisting the urge to swallow nervously.

“Frankly I don’t know why there would be rumors about _my_ death.” Simet glared at Qui-Gon, making it clear he would not be tolerating his bantha shit tonight. “I’m not the one who volunteered to be a Sith kebab.” With a raised eyebrow, Master Silvanus slipped between the younger masters and swept into the classroom, his robe following his movements, the Force crackling with his power and intelligence. Bes and Monti watched in awe until Jerrold finally broke the spell by grabbing Qui-Gon’s hand before he could run away and dragging him into the classroom.

Monti turned back and caught Bes’s eye with a grin, then smiled at Cin and Gi-Ho behind them. He took Bes’s arm companionably, and led him to the classroom, eager to begin and see the sparks fly.

“Tell me, Bes.” Monti kept his voice low. “Is it true that you and Simet are together now?” He patted Bes’s hand in encouragement.

Bes blushed. “That’s still under negotiation. How did you know?”

“Denna,” Monti smiled. “You’ll be good for him, Bes.”

Urdlea grinned at Cin and Gi-Ho as they walked up the hall, looking pleased. “Well played, Gentlemen. Well played.”

Gi-Ho snorted. “He walked into that one all on his own.”

Cin sighed, mentally preparing himself to go debate someone who had been openly dismissive of his abilities. Seeing Si shut that down had been quite gratifying, but he needed to be professional and neutral. “You do have the best ideas, Gi-Ho.”

Gi-Ho looked quite pleased with how things were going. “Let’s get the party started.”

Cin shook his head. “He is dressed better than I am, isn’t he?” They both began walking toward the classroom.

Gi-Ho snorted. “He always was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually base my original characters on real-life actors (somewhat ironic in fanfiction, I know), but I was listening to/watching George Ezra's video of _Listen to the Man_ with Sir Ian McKellan while this chapter was developing. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZS0WvzRVByg
> 
> Between the look, the body language and the awkward chumminess, Master Monti was born, and that is what he looks like (but in more Jedi-like clothing).
> 
> So in this chapter we met some more of Qui-Gon's agemates and other teaching staff in the Temple. Any thoughts about them? 
> 
> The next chapter will include the seminar. The sleeping dragon is awake. Someone is going to get burned.


	19. Part XIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cin leads the Master class, Master Si critiques Qui-Gon (and Darth Maul), Master Monti has a lot to say, Master Yoda is very displeased, there is a sleepover, Qui-Gon gets an ale and a reality check, and Slo Min gives a history lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted Song Lyrics from Billy Joel's _Honesty_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SuFScoO4tb0
> 
> So we are finally at the seminar. I hope it lives up to expectations. I once again must state how absolutely useless I am at anything athletic, so some of what people say may be outright wrong. I'm going to have to ask you to assume that Master Si knows what he's talking about, even if I don't. Also, I only found out recently there is apparently an online Mandalorian dictionary, so um, yeah, the Mandalorian terms are not remotely close to canon and are totally just made up. The terms are for Mandalorian martial arts, so I'm doing some hand waving and assuming the terms themselves might have come from yet an older tradition and were incorporated into the Mandalorian language. Because I just picked some phonemes and ran with it. (I know nothing about Mandalorians beyond them having a warrior culture and previous wars with the Jedi).

_Honesty is such a lonely word,_

_Everyone is so untrue._

_Honesty is hardly ever heard,_

_And mostly what I need from you._

\--Billy Joel, _Honesty_

Qui-Gon made a sincere effort to be attentive as Cin introduced the topic and the participants. He had been abruptly thrown into a mindset he hadn’t had since his earliest years with Feemor, a modest student, not an accomplished master. Amazing how one could be so quickly returned to a lower level of maturity.

Jerrold gave Master Si a nod as he took his seat, as well as Cin, impressed by their plan and hoping it might crack that thick shell of denial Qui-Gon seemed to be wearing to shield himself from reality. He knew Drallig must have had something up his sleeve or he would have had Qui-Gon come sooner. Frankly he had wanted to smack his old friend for the disparaging remarks about Cin’s field work. The man had been Yoda’s apprentice and had ample field experience as a padawan, knight and master before he had joined the teaching staff full time, and he had always made a point of checking in with the regional coordinators when designing these classes, keeping tabs on what changes were happening, making visits to far off locations and staying updated on threats to the Jedi, inside and outside the Temple. (It was something Master Silvanus had also done, according to Jerrold’s predecessor). It was likely it was too behind the scenes for Qui-Gon to have known about, not staying in the Temple long enough to notice the patterns. The Battlemaster was considered an advisor to the Council, and the best ones did not sit back on their laurels and assume all threats to the Temple and the Jedi could be handled with just a few lightsabers and a drunk tank.

Monti looked up at the screen with a smile. He had hoped he would be useful to the other masters, knowing his ample knowledge of history was of less practical use than decades of saber practice, but with Simet in the mix he was confident he would be heard.

Cin finished the general lecture, then proceeded into the circumstances around the mission to Naboo. He didn’t call on Jinn to elaborate as Qui-Gon might have expected, at this point only wanting to give a brief overview before getting into the nitty-gritty. As with the Knights Workshops, he opened with still images before getting into the clips.

Qui-Gon didn’t flinch when the image of the Zabrack came up on screen, but it took effort. Marcus gently squeezed his knee under the table in support. Master Si’s attention was focused on the screen, taking in the information. Bes stared at the tattooed face, so much more extensive than his own, and tried not to imagine Quinlan going up against this monster.

Cin was continuing with his usual spiel; the possible Sith warrior had attacked Master Jinn on Tattooine and had engaged with both Jinn and his then-Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi when they returned the queen to Naboo. Not that this wasn’t covered in the materials supplied ahead of time, but Cin was used to Jedi not always getting the chance to review them (or outright ignoring them. Many masters felt they had passed the age of ‘preparing for class’).

“As you all know, Master Jinn has joined us for this section of the class.”

Qui-Gon looked up, slightly surprised Cin was pointing that out; he was well known to most of the participants, if not all.

Cin looked at him directly. “We are going to play the clips from the security cameras on Naboo. Have you seen these before, Master Jinn?” Cin’s voice was gentle, as if he expected Qui-Gon might not be able to handle it.

“No, I haven’t.” He tried to look unbothered. “But I survived it and I already know how it ends.”

“Yes,” Cin didn’t look convinced. “I’ll understand if you need a break.” They had intentionally seated Qui-Gon near the door, but not so close that he could slip away too easily. “Let’s begin.” He nodded at Gi-Ho who lowered the lights and started the video.

As with the knights, there were audible gasps when the Sith lit up not one but two beams off his lightstaff. Bes had been wondering why his saber handle was so long and Monti was leaning in, fascinated by the alternative weaponry.

Qui-Gon watched, oddly detached as on the screen he and his padawan took off their robes and engaged with the Dark warrior. Jerrold glanced back at him, concerned, then back at the screen. Qui-Gon looked so damned healthy. Obi-Wan looked so damned young.

The three of them moved around each other much as Qui-Gon had remembered, the Sith constantly trying to turn the three-part dance into a duet. Obi-Wan was pushed out of the fight multiple times, dealt with like an annoying insect, swatted away and inconsequential so the Sith could focus on the master. The last time, when he was pushed completely off the catwalk, the gasps and groans were louder, the masters all remembering at some point or another when their own padawans fell out of reach, possibly to their deaths, while there was nothing they could do about it beyond staying in the fight. Qui-Gon realized suddenly, as he watched himself backhand the Zabrack, that he had no idea whether Obi-Wan would show up in the fight again or not. He had a vague memory of feeling Obi-Wan’s shock, terror and anger through their bond when he was impaled, but he could not recall if Obi-Wan was in the room at the time or still stranded far below the catwalks. He knew Obi-Wan had lost his own saber (but not when), knew he had used his saber instead, and was told the Sith was dead, but was rather unclear as to how that had happened. Not that it mattered, he’d know soon enough.

He continued to watch now only himself and the Sith as he pushed that vile creature along the catwalk. There were murmurs around the table as they continued along which became more incredulous as he backed the Zabrack into the laser wall which opened behind him. There was one gasp of ‘no’ which was coming from Gelf’s general direction, but may not have been from him, and Jerrold noticeably stiffened, muttering curses under his breath. When the doors cycled shut and he knelt in meditation there were more quiet gasps from the peanut gallery.

Qui-Gon took advantage of the delay in action to glance back at Cin. The Battlemaster was quiet, his face revealing nothing. As he was turning back around, he caught sight of Master Si and his friend. The friend looked very distressed, but like Cin, Master Silvanus was also stoic, his only tell a raised eyebrow over his crossed arms.

When Qui-Gon turned back to the screen he was stunned to see Obi-Wan at the far end of the hall, waiting to rejoin the fight.

The doors opened, he sprung up immediately, and Qui-Gon was damn impressed by his uninjured self, instantly jumping back into the fray and pushing back against the Dark warrior. Obi-Wan, impatient boy that he was, had lit his saber before the doors even opened, as had the Sith, the fool letting the enemy know the future without having to waste their own efforts to see, but it _was_ a Sith, so it probably felt that anyway. As soon as the doors had opened, he had run down the hall to rejoin the fight, only to get stuck behind the last wall. Qui-Gon frowned, wondering if Obi-Wan had seen him when he was taken down and near mortally wounded.

There was a soft undercurrent of commentary in the room now, gasps, quiet exclamations, outright protests and feelings of foreboding in the Force, as if the masters felt he had perhaps made a misstep somewhere. The tempo of the fight had increased and in this much less constrained space the Sith fought with renewed vigor and ferocity, while Qui-Gon could feel the phantom aches and exhaustion he could barely remember from the time.

He was not as young as his opponent and he had been slower than he should have been (he would clearly have to work on both speed _and_ stamina), and the Zabrack launched into a new rapid sequence that left him stunned and unguarded. He could feel the entire room wince just before he was impaled, as if they could all see it coming (and he frankly wondered if they really believed they would have seen it if they had been in _his_ boots). Then the blow came and one part of him could feel the burn all over again and another part of him noted he had made an embarrassingly dopey face when it had happened. There were very loud gasps when the saber went in, which was vaguely gratifying.

“Oh my, that poor boy.”

Qui-Gon didn’t turn from the screen but was surprised by the sentiment from Master Si’s companion. He was certainly not a boy anymore.

And then he caught a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s devastated face on the screen and realized the sentiment was not for him. The Zabrack stalked and snarled while Obi-Wan watched helplessly, saber still at hand, visibly struggling to control his emotions while his master lay dying on the cold metal floor. He shuddered, feeling again the brutal cold throughout his body as his life slipped away and the impossibly hot burn of his vaporized insides. Jerrold squeezed his knee again.

The wall cycled open and Obi-Wan came flying out, a young, strong, _fierce_ warrior, but clearly still struggling for self-control, once more a turbulent teenager in a man’s body, and Qui-Gon was afraid for this, had not seen it when he was laying on the floor dying, and he did not know how close his padawan had strayed to the line separating Light and Dark, could not recall if he had stepped over the line. He only remembered a profound sense of disappointment.

Obi-Wan was on the attack, his saber cutting through the Zabrack’s double hilt, knocking out one of the blades, and Qui-Gon dimly wondered if perhaps he should have tried that. With only one blade, even Obi-Wan was able to drive him back, and he did, advancing aggressively, even pushing him down, though he was not able to disarm him. Still, his focus was clouded by anger and rage, and this quickly sabotaged his defense as the Sith Force-shoved him violently, the Zabrack completely unhampered by moral dilemmas. As he was woefully unprepared for this attack, Obi-Wan was even more quickly driven back until he dropped into the large melting pit in the floor, which in retrospect really should have had safety rails.

Across the room, Gelf let out a half-smothered sob, under the impression Qui-Gon’s former padawan had just fallen to his death. Apparently, he _hadn’t_ seen him at the saber clinics like Marcus had.

The Zabrack looked down at Obi-Wan’s fallen saber (and in fairness, Obi-Wan was smart enough to drop it on the ground and not down the hole), before he kicked it into the melting pit. Gelf whimpered, Master Si’s friend gasped a little, and Monti made an uncomfortable sound. The Sith ran his remaining blade along the rim of the pit and Qui-Gon briefly wondered if he fell in because he had inadvertently cut a crucial support. There was a twitch of movement near his body, which surprised Qui-Gon. His spine had been traumatized by his injury and he had been quite paralyzed during the early days of recovery, even after he woke up, so he wasn’t sure how he was managing to move. It happened again and he realized it was his lightsaber moving. Obi-Wan was trying to grab hold of something he couldn’t see but could only feel and he remembered how loud the tiny noise had seemed, he remembered praying the Sith wouldn’t notice it, their last chance.

“Don’t drop it, Obi-Wan,” he whispered, barely a breath. “Don’t drop it.”

The Sith paused, posture showing confusion, and suddenly Obi-Wan shot out of the hole, calling his master’s saber to hand, already moving to make the cut before his feet were steady on the ground. The Zabrack looked just as stunned as Qui-Gon felt, falling backward into the pit.

Yes, the Sith was dead. Obi-Wan _had_ killed him.

Qui-Gon was grudgingly impressed.

The clip ended as Obi-Wan turned to run to his side and Gi-Ho slowly brought up the lights. Several of the masters were wiping their eyes. Freelen shivered, fighting down panic. Master Si’s companion was looking at the screen, wide-eyed (and Qui-Gon finally recognized him as Master Bes), as was Master Monti, and he could feel Jerrold’s eyes on him. Urdlea was giving him a raised eyebrow. Master Si had sat back in his chair, arms still crossed in his sleeves, mulling over what he had seen. Gelf was openly weeping.

Cin cleared his throat. “Would anyone like to comment or should we take a short break?” He carefully ignored Gelf blowing his nose, instead looking at Jinn.

“I’m fine to continue,” Qui-Gon resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Cin’s concern.

The Battlemaster sat down and gestured to signal the floor was open for discussion. Si raised a shaking hand. Cin nodded at him.

“Can you explain your strategy wherein the two of you left solid, open ground to engage your opponent on a series of catwalks and enclosed spaces?”

Qui-Gon felt his face fall into a scowl against his will. He drew himself up straight, projecting dignity and calm, and reminded himself that he was a Jedi Master, with decades of field experience under his belt, not a decrepit old man who hadn’t used a saber in years.

“The Zabrack was fleeing. We pursued him where he went.”

“It appears the Zabrack was leading you to a more isolated and advantageous arena. While you would indeed be separated from the battle, you would also be cut off from assistance and communications. Furthermore, if the Sith were even remotely resourceful, he could well have had battle droids held in reserve. So I ask again, why did you follow your opponent onto the catwalks?”

Qui-Gon huffed. Simet Silvanus was still a stubborn old ass.

“We were pursuing him. It’s hard to stop someone if they escape and we were engaged in a lightsaber battle. What do you suggest I should have done to detain him?” Qui-Gon growled.

Master Silvanus didn’t move a muscle, but Qui-Gon jerked forward in his chair as a distinct Force push smacked into the back of his head.

“The Force is your ally and it’s not only channeled through your lightsaber.” Si glanced at Cin, then continued. “Your opponent led you where he wanted you to go and by putting you on a narrow catwalk constrained both you and your apprentice, limiting your attacks to two directions only. Excellent move on his part. Why did you follow it?”

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to answer, ‘because I was a jackass.’

“I’ve fought on beams narrower than that before,” he finally replied.

“Not against Sith.” Si turned back toward the screen and Cin nodded to Gi-Ho to start the clips again. “By going on the catwalk he’s cut the fight range from 360° to two small zones; with that double-bladed staff it’s even more energy efficient. You are hindered in your attack and his efforts are minimized. It’s almost Soresu-like in strategy.”

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Master Silvanus did love his Soresu.

“At the time,” he ground out. “It felt as if he was retreating and furthermore it kept him separated from the queen, who he was targeting.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “That’s an interesting assumption.”

In the observation lounge, Yoda and Windu shared a look, making note to find out what Si had meant.

“However, the reports indicate the queen and her strike force left the area quickly. There was little need to expand the fight in that direction from your perspective. Additionally your opponent had ample time to familiarize himself with and customize the environment. It was a power station. Lots of nasty ways to die there.”

This was why Qui-Gon always hated debating with Master Silvanus. He could nitpick decisions from his armchair while not having the actual field experience to understand what was possible to do in the moment.

“It was a surprise attack. He would not have prepared for our arrival because he didn’t know we were coming, much less where we were planning to attack. The queen kept her plans secret until after we arrived on the planet and the Gungan army served as a distraction for the strike team.”

Si raised an eyebrow. Monti, Bes and Cin looked at him, mystified.

“According to the reports, you encountered this same opponent before when you were leaving Tattooine.”

“Yes,” Qui-Gon hoped Cin didn’t have clips of that. Even he found that dust up embarrassing.

“Who was with you?”

“The queen and her retinue were on the ship, as was Obi-Wan.”

“Who was with _you_?”

Qui-Gon frowned, trying to remember. The Council had not focused much on the earlier skirmish. “Anakin, a local boy I was bringing to the Temple for training.”

“Who was with you when you raided the ship hanger?”

Yoda leaned forward, as did Mace.

“The queen, the strike team, the pilots,” Qui-Gon glanced at the screen. “Obi-Wan.”

“And?” Si’s patience was wearing thin.

“Anakin.” Qui-Gon seemed surprised Si was harping on this.

“And what is young Skywalker’s midichlorian count?”

Qui-Gon grimaced. He did not know the official count. He was no longer able to access initiate files. “It was at least twenty-thousand.” Several of the masters started in surprise.

Si leaned back and crossed his arms under his sleeves. “You went into a covert operation against a Sith and took an untrained, nine-year-old Force user with a count of over twenty-thousand with you?” He paused to let that sink in. “And you honestly think he didn’t know you were coming? When he had already seen you both together on the sands of Tattooine?”

 _Ouch_.

Clearly Master Silvanus had done the reading.

Qui-Gon said nothing. Mace muttered that they should have sent the full reports to Si sooner.

“So now that we have established that this was not a surprise, at least to the Sith if not the Trade Federation, I think there is a strong case to be made that you were intentionally led into a dangerous environment that put you at a disadvantage.”

The rest of the masters, Bes included, stared at Si, open-mouthed. Bes could see easily from the clip that the Sith had been leading the fight but had been at a loss in how to explain that to Master Jinn. Si found a way without even getting into his saber technique.

Jinn was silent for a long moment. Ani shone like a beacon in the Force, bright and brilliant against not only Tattooine’s barren desert, but even against Naboo’s lush landscape. It hadn’t occurred to him he would be equally conspicuous to the Sith.

“So you think the Sith led us exactly where he wanted us to go?” There were a hell of a lot of catwalks they could have ended up on.

“I think it’s clear the Sith scouted out several possible locations and drew you into an area he was already familiar with,” Si sat back in his chair.

“I disagree,” Qui-Gon nodded. “But why do you think so?”

“Naboo is hardly the most sophisticated world in the Republic, but they aren’t so backward as to have melting pits protected by laser walls but not safety rails.”

Qui-Gon glanced back at the clip playing and Obi-Wan tumbled into the pit again. “That does seem odd,” Jinn conceded.

“If you look into the supplemental materials attached to the mission reports,” Si continued. “The Naboo Power Authority lodged a complaint against the Jedi for destruction of safety rails in the Power Complex, specifically in the room where the fight terminated. The rails had been cut off at floor level and appeared to have been cut through with a cutting torch or a lightsaber. The complaint was subsequently withdrawn when this vandalism was found in several of the rooms in the Power Station, and the security clips indicated it was done by the alleged Sith and droids, prior to the battle. It was likely known by this time that the queen had left Coruscant, and that a full squadron of fighter pilots was unaccounted for. The ship hanger was a likely target for her to attack and young Skywalker announced your arrival. So yes, I think this alleged Sith was well-prepared for this attack and led you to an environment that was to his advantage.”

Yoda and Windu shared another glance. Neither of them had caught that either.

“Hmm,” Qui-Gon really didn’t have a good response for that. He glanced back at Cin and Gi-Ho, and they seemed equally surprised.

“Your master always told you to mind your surroundings,” Si continued. “Even now, they are speaking to you.” He leaned back, giving others the opportunity to speak.

Gelf raised a hand. Cin nodded at him.

“I’m sorry,” he sounded very stuffy from crying. “But how exactly did Kenobi not die when he fell into the pit?”

“Ah, I can answer that,” Cin tapped a few buttons and the clips changed to a camera positioned above the pit, showing Obi-Wan hanging from a slowly-processing slag hopper. “He caught himself and is not that far down, but just out of reach of the lightstaff.” He tapped again and a schematic came up showing the pit in cross-section, the fighters silhouetted in blue, green and red to show their positions. Obi-Wan hung precariously, just out of reach, no doubt praying a bolus of slag wasn’t coming down the line at that moment.

“Young Kenobi is quite lucky the Sith was driven by rage and not expediency,” Si commented. Beside him Bes grimaced. He’d seen Si levitate his own lit saber more than once and was suddenly grateful Si was on _their_ side.

Gelf nodded, satisfied. He had seen a fellow padawan fall to their death in a fight, so the sight had hit him particularly hard. “So, Kenobi was able to Force jump and call Master Jinn’s saber to hand simultaneously?” Gelf seemed very surprised, but then again, so was Qui-Gon.

“Yes,” Cin confirmed. “Kenobi has excellent telekinetic and acrobatic skills.”

“You should see him play Breggle,” Urdlea suggested. Several of the masters snickered. Cin, Si, Bes and Jerrold did not.

Freelan raised her hand. Cin acknowledged her.

“If Ataru is not going to work against this . . . thing, what forms are you recommending instead?”

Cin hid his surprise. Usually the masters ruminated longer on what they would have done instead before admitting this attack was saber-fighting of a caliber the Jedi had not faced in centuries. He wondered briefly if this was due to Jinn’s presence or Si’s.

“What we would recommend in general is not the same as what we recommend for a specific person. This isn’t a workshop and as masters you really don’t need that, but we _do_ recommend you come to the saber clinics so we can see your form and go from there. In general, we are recommending several different strategies. Firstly, we suggest everyone work to increase their tempo. Many of the Shien and Soresu field Jedi have been able to keep up with the speed, but they are accustomed to fighting off droids and blasters. Secondly, we are recommending each Jedi shore up their defense. Thirdly, we advise drilling against those familiar with Niman or similar techniques, so they aren’t caught by surprise with an aggressive Force push.”

Qui-Gon snorted. Cin gave him an annoyed look and Si shifted his chin slightly. Gi-Ho ducked his head subconsciously. Master Si was _pissed_.

“Finally, if a Jedi has the skill and stamina for it, we are opening up more classes in Form V and in other advanced techniques. Based on the logs recovered from this Zabrak’s ship and what little we could get from the Viceroy, it is believed this one was the Sith Apprentice, or a subordinate, not the master. We can only assume that his comrades are even more dangerous.” He looked around the room. “We are of course open to suggestions, especially from experienced masters.”

“Do all Sith use double-bladed sabers?” a thin Nautolan asked.

Cin and Si both looked to Monti.

“Historically, no. In general, historic Sith used a wider range of light weapons than the Jedi, but sabers were still the most common, particularly among Sith that were originally trained as Jedi. Sith sabers were more likely to be multi-crystal, generally ran hotter and were more powerful, sometimes at the sacrifice of blade stability and longevity, and were more likely to have functional additions and variations. Side blades, double blades, staffs, that sort of thing. On the other hand, when Jedi were actively fighting the Sith, you would similarly see more branching out of technique and weaponry. Light staffs, two saber techniques and alternate weapons were also very common among the Jedi as well in these periods.”

“More Jedi have been expressing interest in alternate weaponry,” Cin reported. “Both Master Noughten and Master Igneous have noticed the increase. In recent decades, Jedi have usually only made use of such weapons for training purposes, or because of biological or physical differences, but there is greater interest now in taking alternate weapons into the field.”

“That does reflect historical trends,” Monti piped up. “The Jedi have never completely abandoned non-standard sabers, but they are generally considered the realm of the hobbyist and historian in times of lesser threat.”

Urdlea frowned at the screen as Jinn was stabbed again. Gi-Ho made note to stop the display after the cycle ended.

“Is a lightsaber a reasonable weapon to go up against a light staff?”

Everyone looked around the room, first to Qui-Gon who was the only one they knew had ever attempted this in combat, before they turned to Si and Monti. Si gestured for Monti to speak first.

“Again, historically there are records concerning duels and battles, as opposed to sparring, where double-bladed staffs have been pitted against traditional single-bladed sabers. Most scholars who have witnessed such battles have expressed that there are advantages and limitations to both weapons, and in general it depends on the experience of each combatant, not only with their own weapon but also against their opponent’s weapon. Staffs were favored by younger, faster warriors and were most effective against multiple adversaries, but had distinct disadvantages as well, particularly against blaster fire as the central portion is metal.” He glanced at Cin. “I could do a more quantitative and statistical study after the seminar.”

Cin nodded. “We’ll talk.” He glanced at Si.

“I have had some experience with fellow Jedi in saber/staff sparring, as well as experience against long staff users outside the Jedi. I would agree with Master Monti. The advantages and disadvantages are less important than the relative experience of the combatants. I’ve also read some of the historical accounts and performed some of the staff-specific katas. My best suggestion for learning to fend off a lightstaff is to spar against one, but also to use one, or even just a wood staff, to feel how it moves. It’s very different from a saber, and that is what makes it more dangerous. If you don’t understand how it moves, you can’t truly grasp the strengths and the limitations. There are definite weaknesses to the form, some of which are specific to the addition of the lightblades.”

“Really?” Cin reflected everyone’s astonishment.

“Yes, you know I get bored.” Si seemed amused by Cin’s surprise. “There used to be a historical weapons guild. Some of the members would build alternate weapons. Others would practice with them. Moosie would help with the designs and made many of the weapons. He even reverse-engineered a few without schematics.”

Monti made a note to look for Moosie’s notes in Archives. Qui-Gon tried not to think about it. Moosie had always made him nervous.

“The Guild still meets,” Gi-Ho piped up. “They sometimes have me come and help them with older versions of katas or more obscure ones. And I do know some of the staff katas, though I’ve only done them with wood and metal staffs.”

“If you can manage it, try it with actual light blades,” Si advised. “As with lightsabers, the gyroscopic effect alters how one moves the staff and gives insights into reading intent in an opponent.”

Qui-Gon reluctantly admitted that would have been helpful. Cin gave Gi-Ho a look that clearly said they would be chatting about this later.

“Do we know anything about the form he is using?” Urdlea asked. Jedi considered it risky to study Sith forms, but it wasn’t as if they knew nothing about them.

Cin resisted the urge to glance up at the camera that fed into the observation lounge. “We have consulted with several Council members and masters with some familiarity with known Sith forms, but we have only been able to confirm a few of the details.”

Si raised an eyebrow at that. “I can’t say I’ve made a study of Sith forms, but there is a variety of different influences apparent in this warrior’s technique.”

As a group they all turned to stare at Si, though Monti seemed more intrigued that anything else. In the observation lounge, Yoda was staring down his former padawan, muttering under his breath about how he better not have studied Dark Side forms. Windu felt it was safest to stay out of it and said nothing.

“Most of his moves are not unknown among the Jedi, if not well known, and there are clearly influences from other arts, including Mandalorean long-staff techniques.”

“There are?” Cin looked dumbfounded.

“Yes.” Si took a deep breath, then carefully tapped his telekinetic interface. It lit up and after a moment he got the hang of it again. He called up the section of the clip where the Sith was fending off both Jedi, on the floor then on the catwalk. He managed to set it to play on half-speed. “This warrior is very talented and very well trained, and while some of his combinations are unusual, there is little here that is actually unknown to the Jedi.” Onscreen, the Sith kicked Kenobi in the face after blocking Jinn with his staff. “That move is quite similar to the second arch in kata 5.18 when adapted for the lightstaff, though the kick is at a much higher angle.”

Gi-Ho made a startled sound as he recognized the move.

Si advanced the playback to Jinn and Kenobi engaging the Sith on the bridge. “And here you can see where he performs a _bom-dren-bom_ sequence.”

“I’m sorry Master Silvanus, a _what?_ ” Cin looked perplexed.

Si noticed the rest of the class was shifting back and forth between staring at him and the screen. “I may be butchering the pronunciation, but it’s a classic Mandalorean technique for dealing with multiple opponents. I have no idea what the Sith would call it, but the back and forth you see is lifted straight from there. It’s altered slightly to accommodate the fact that the ends of the staff are hot plasma, which limits the range and reach of the technique somewhat.” He advanced the clip further to the point where the Sith broke through Qui-Gon’s defense and impaled him. “And here you also see a classic attack move from both the Mandalorean tradition and staff-adapted DjemSo. The main difference here is the move is combined with a lethal attack, not a disarming or maiming move. As Master Monti explained, this would be more typical in eras of higher stakes conflict, whereas in a lower stakes battle, both the Mandalorean or the Jedi would likely take out or knock away the weapon rather than go for straight on impalement.” Onscreen, Jinn had fallen to the floor and Kenobi trembled behind the red door. “Though clearly even Jedi today can rise to the need when motivated.”

“So you’re saying these moves are adapted from techniques we already know?” Gelf asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” Si nodded. “The speed, the combinations and the sheer brutality, taking the move immediately to the most lethal endpoint is what is foreign here, not the actual steps. This feels shocking and bewildering because of the ferocity, not because it’s something we’ve never seen before. While I’m sure the Sith likely have some techniques that are utterly alien and unknown to use, the difference here is in motivation. It is a dark reflection of skills we already know in our bones. We simply aren’t used to applying them in this way.”

Freelen looked nervously at the display, though it was only showing a blank screen. “So, you’re saying this _is_ something we can defend ourselves against?”

“Not the way we’re currently doing it,” Si conceded. “Though this is hardly the first time the Jedi have faced Sith or Dark Force users. They had had ample time to study us, to use our techniques against us. We’re playing catch up here, and from a tactical perspective, the Sith’s freedom to call upon the Dark Side of the Force does limit us in comparison.”

Cin seemed slightly unnerved that Si could pick apart a Sith’s technique after only two viewings, but this was one of the reasons he had called the master in. “What do you suggest we do?”

Si gave him an odd look, as if he expected they would focus more on Qui-Gon’s technique, but he answered readily. “I’d start with what you’re already doing. Increase defensive capability, that was the largest problem apparent here. Ataru is very much a shock and dazzle attack form. A Sith is not going to be impressed, and while it is an aggressive Jedi form, it pales to Sith techniques. Soresu for defense, Djem So for attack. Niman for balancing the two and for preparation for Force attack training. For those who have mastered Soresu and Shien, get them out of their comfort zones. Defense only just means it takes longer to die. A Jedi can’t rely on a single form. We aren’t in peace time.”

Everyone, Qui-Gon Jinn included, winced.

“Next, we increase in tempo, as you had suggested. Drill against multiple droids, not one. Spar against more than one opponent. Get the guild into the clinics with their alternate weapons, not because we think the other Sith must also use alternatives, but because exposure helps open the mind, helps one to learn to read an opponent more quickly. Mix up partners more during practice and saber clinics. It’s one thing to have a regular sparring partner, but no one should be stagnating. _Everyone_ needs to step up their game. And start training with these possible Sith in mind. Remember how we would prepare if we were going up against turned Jedi? We didn’t just practice form, we had our training partners get more aggressive, had them use lethal moves so we could anticipate the differences between a spar and a death match.” Si gestured at the screen. “The techniques we are using now are inadequate the way we are using them, but talent and skill alone won’t win the day. The Sith was clearly the most skilled warrior in the fight, but he’s the one who ended up dead. It _is_ possible to defeat them, but we are currently at a great disadvantage. And if this is the apprentice, I do not want to imagine how powerful the master must be, but we must prepare for it.”

“You think we have to train like Sith?” the Nautolan asked.

“I think we have to train _for_ Sith,” Si corrected. He looked to Monti. “How did Jedi prepare for this in the past?”

“Much of what you just suggested,” Monti looked rather flabbergasted. “If I were to make a list, all of those tactics would be on it. In fact, there was a paper I recall which determined that relying on one form only increased the likelihood a Jedi would die or be maimed in battle. Defense alone is not enough; offense alone is not either. DjemSo increased in popularity, and in fact was developed in previous Sith conflicts, but Soresu was also very different back then. Jedi didn’t just train against droids and blasters. Classic Soresu also trained against combatants and some of the Soresu masters were best known for those deadly attacks they _did_ take. Many Jedi of these periods were known to have more than one specialty or hybrid techniques, even before Niman was formalized.”

Cin and Gi-Ho shared a look. Clearly, they needed to get together with Si and Monti again. Forget a seminar, they could redesign the entire curriculum between the four of them.

“So, you think Ataru is insufficient against him?” Qui-Gon sounded as if his pride had been injured and he wanted to start an argument.

“Yes.” Si’s voice was calm, not rising to the bait. “The purpose of Ataru is to dazzle and overwhelm an opponent, to attack and win the fight decisively. It’s utterly ineffective here when the opponent is using a much more aggressive style, and has no doubt been trained by Sith. An Ataru master, at the top of their game might reach a functional stalemate with the warrior we’ve seen but it’s clear that eventually the Ataru becomes too physically taxing. The double-bladed staff is more efficient to move energy-wise, thus the Ataru master cannot maintain their attack momentum as long as the Sith. If the only weapon in the arsenal is Ataru, it is not sufficient. Combine it with a strong defense, or take the Sith by surprise, Ataru-based attacks can be used to great effect, as young Kenobi clearly demonstrated.”

Qui-Gon glanced at the blank screen, still surprised at how fast Obi-Wan had shot out of that hole, despite having drilled him in such moves. “I don’t think it’s a good strategy to fall into a hole to escape an attack.” There was definite bite in Qui-Gon’s tone.

Several masters bit back snickers, but some, particularly Jerrold, were offended on Obi-Wan’s behalf. Given his age and experience, he had held up remarkably well.

“Were there any moves that were particularly effective?” Urdlea asked, hoping to mollify Qui-Gon somewhat, not because she didn’t understand Cin’s plan, but because she was concerned Qui-Gon would shut down and ignore the discussion.

Cin smiled grimly and extended a hand to Si. “I know what _I_ think.”

Si gave him a warning look, urging him not to give up his authority so easily. “The most effective Jedi move in the fight should be fairly obvious.” He adjusted the playback to the right point and played it on the main screen, zoomed in on the action. “Here it is.” On the screen, Obi-Wan had burst out of the laser walls in an aggressive fury and drove his saber blade through the Sith’s long hilt, blowing it apart with enough violence to drive the Sith to the ground. “Right there. Leveled the playing field significantly, drastically reduced the weapon’s effectiveness, and in true Ataru fashion, no doubt startled his opponent. However, Kenobi also lacked the experience to take full advantage of it. The Sith in the same position would have no doubt given a killing blow before his adversary recovered. You will note that the Sith has to change tactics. Despite competence with a single blade, he quickly resorts to Force blows to end the skirmish. Had Kenobi had more experience against it and had there not been a giant hole in the floor, he had a fair shot at disarming the Sith completely, though at great risk to himself.” Si looked to Monti. “Obviously that isn’t a tactic that is useful in longstaff fighting, but was it used historically against lightstaffs?”

“Oh, yes,” Monti nodded. “Moosie asked me about it once, probably for a guild project and we did some research. Lightstaff hilts were often designed to make it possible to salvage the hardware from one or both of the blades if the central staff was destroyed. In fact, it was greatly debated as to where the best place to hit was. Close to one end and you only knock out one blade, but too close to the middle and you might end up with two perfectly functional sabers coming at you, just no longer connected. Some were even designed to be detached.”

“Anything else?” Freelen asked, skeptical she could have done that same move fast enough to avoid the double blades and get in under their guard.

“There were effective moves,” Si nodded at Jinn. “But the strategy employed in the fight put them at too great a disadvantage to achieve victory.”

Qui-Gon glared at Si, silently seething. Jerrold squeezed his knee again, not that he disagreed. Briefly he had a vision of Jinn leaping out of his chair and going for Si’s throat like a bloodthirsty Chi cat after its prey and he hoped Master Silvanus was still as strong in the Force as he had been before retirement. In the observation lounge, Windu snickered. Trust Master Si to say out loud what everyone else was thinking.

“Were they able to recover the Sith’s body or weapon?” Si asked. “I know it was a slag pit, but it’s not clear if it was actually turned on at the time.”

“The body was not recovered, nor was the majority of the weapon, but the broken pieces were collected, as was the warrior’s ship.”

“Did he have more than one battle costume?” Si asked. “It would be interesting to see what materials his clothes are made of. Clearly, they don’t stand up to _sai tok_ , but he’s not the least bothered by the heat from his just-cut saber hilt, so he’s probably using some form of thermal protection.”

Cin glanced at Gi-Ho, who made a note of that. He looked around the room. Qui-Gon seemed quite defensive. Freelen looked ready to vomit. Jerrold appeared overwhelmed. Si clearly had much more to say.

“Alright,” he gestured to Gi-Ho to turn on the next part of the presentation. “Let me tell you what we were able to glean from our investigation, and then we can reconvene after the break and get into technique.”

Qui-Gon glared at Master Si, who had sat back in his chair, arm crossed as always, watching the presentation attentively. He still didn’t think he’d been led, he had aggressively pushed his opponent back. To a room with no guardrails. He had the sinking feeling he was not going to like the second half of the evening any more than the first.

* * *

Cin Drallig came back into the staff room, just behind Gi-Ho. Cin had a fresh pot of tea. Gi-Ho had a bottle of Correlian whiskey.

“So,” Cin looked around the silent table. “That got a little intense.”

Si looked quiet, if not contrite. “Did I go too far?” he asked, his voice raspier than usual.

“No,” Cin began pouring out he tea and offered Si the first cup while Gi-Ho did the same with the alcohol. Si waved away the whiskey. Bes was tempted to indulge but thought it best to wait until he got home safe. He felt unsteady enough already.

“I think you took it in directions we weren’t expecting, but you had a fair balance between criticism of his choices and limitations of how Jedi currently fight.” He nodded at Monti, who he had invited to join them after class. “And I think you found a good partner in crime.”

Monti grinned as he sipped his whiskey, taking it as a compliment.

“I rather liked how you explained that _drawing out an attacker_ is not the same thing as _walking into their prepared trap_ ,” Gi-Ho snickered, downing a shot.

Si sipped his tea, sighing mentally as it soothed his throat. “Well, next time we can discuss the difference between knowingly and unknowingly walking into a trap.”

Master K’Trill snorted.

Si and Cin shared a wincing look just before the door slammed open, and Master Yoda stormed in, Knight Daelen following anxiously at his heels. Windu followed further behind, putting picture frames and knick-knacks to rights as they jostled and moved in response to the reverberations the angry little master was giving off.

“Simet Silvanus!” Yoda jumped up and grabbed the table edge with one hand, flipping himself to stand on it, then stalked across it to wag a finger in Si’s face. “When study Sith forms did you?”

Cin grimaced. Study of Sith techniques was expressly forbidden except under very specific circumstances, such as tracking down a Rogue Jedi who had explored the forbidden knowledge. As Battlemaster, it wouldn’t be unheard of for Si to be put in such a position, but it would be odd if Yoda hadn’t known about it.

“What makes you think I’ve studied Sith forms in any way you don’t know about?”

Yoda narrowed his eyes. It was generally believed among his padawans that the tiny master _had_ made a study of Sith arts over his lifetime, including Sith saber forms, so it might be difficult for Yoda to explain this accusation without implicating himself.

“Identify moves by name you did. Identify deadly variations you did.”

Si looked at him, his expression patient. “Master, you _know_ I’ve studied forms and disciplines outside the Jedi and have had need to familiarize myself with more aggressive and lethal tactics in the course of my career. Just because I haven’t made use of them in decades doesn’t mean I don’t still recognize them.”

Yoda crossed his own arms and stood up straight, his expression stern. “And _bum-ja-bum_ , you know this how?”

“Oh, I found that,” Monti piped up, putting his comm on the table to project a holo clip of a man drilling with a long wooden staff against two opponents with wood practice swords. The moves were quite similar to the Sith’s moves on the catwalk. The clip continued to show the man doing it alone as part of a longer practice kata. “It was in the Archives, the clip is centuries old, a Mandalore technique called _bum-ja-bum_ , or in modern Mando’a, _bom-dren-bom_.”

“You know I’ve taken Mandalorean weapons classes,” Si kept his tone soothing. “The Jedi fought a long, protracted war against the Mandaloreans. It is not surprising the Sith would look to their techniques. Even the Jedi have absorbed several of their moves.”

“Study with holocrons you have?” Yoda stared at him.

Si raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a fool, Master. I would not open a Sith holocron without you at my side.”

Yoda looked at him with narrowed eyes, but nodded, satisfied. Bes wondered if perhaps they had actually done so together in the past, but neither wanted to admit it outright in front of the group.

“Good.” Yoda looked vaguely embarrassed by his outburst.

“There’s still cookies left,” Si gestured toward the box with a shaking hand. Yoda caught his hand, squeezed it gently, then walked back to his seat, grabbing two as he passed the box. Cin and Si shared another look as the Grandmaster settled back down and Windu took an empty chair next to Daelen.

“I have the distinct impression I didn’t deliver what you were expecting,” Si ventured, resting his fingers along his mug, trying to feel the warmth without knocking it over.

“You certainly weren’t what Qui-Gon Jinn was expecting,” Gi-Ho snorted. Monti cracked up, putting a napkin up to his face so he wouldn’t lose his whiskey. Bes giggled slightly.

“Yes, you went above and beyond on _that_ ,” Cin agreed. “You found flaws I never even noticed.” Cin sipped his own tea. “It was the in-depth critique of the Sith’s technique that threw us for a loop. You succinctly explained _why_ we fail against it, why it feels so strange and intimidating.”

“The parts that are familiar probably make it feel more wrong, more dangerous. We _do_ know these forms, but it can lead us to a false sense of expectation, making the differences more jarring and more difficult to deal with.”

“You definitely got Qui-Gon’s blood pressure up,” Windu commented.

“Maybe blood to brain will finally go,” Yoda dipped a cookie in his cup. Cin wasn’t sure if it was tea or whiskey. Or both.

“Did you want us to come back for the second session?” Si asked cautiously, uncertain whether Cin would find it helpful, or if Bes would be able to handle it. The Kiffar had been very quiet all evening.

“Yes!” the rest of the staff chimed in before Cin even opened his mouth.

Cin chuckled. “Yes, we do want you to come back. Jinn got a bit more adversarial than we were expecting, but he can’t dismiss you the same way he dismisses me. He knows you don’t have an ulterior motive. Besides that, yes, we’d love to have you back for the second session. That was an incredibly productive discussion.”

“Did you want us to come to the clinic session tomorrow?” Bes asked quietly. “I know we can’t participate in the sparring and drills, but would we benefit from observing?”

Cin smiled. “We do get retired Jedi who come to watch. We’re going to focus on things we talked about, so it certainly wouldn’t hurt to attend, but if you would prefer not to, we understand.”

“I haven’t been to the clinics since I retired,” Si mused.

“Qui-Gon Jinn has a rehab appointment prior to the clinic,” Cin sighed. “Let’s hope he shows up and stays after.”

“Got his ego involved you did,” Yoda snorted, his expression more relaxed. He had definitely gotten into the whiskey. “Show up he will to speak mind if not spar.”

“Who’s coming to the clinic tomorrow?” Cin asked.

“Besides the usual crowd, K’Trill, Koon, Noxa and Rence agreed to help out,” Gi-Ho grinned.

“Do we know if Kenobi is coming?” Nori asked.

The room fell silent. This could get awkward.

“Um, I didn’t invite him to participate,” Gi-Ho’s tone was cautious. “But I didn’t think to warn him away either. We haven’t actually invited him to be an informal instructor yet, but he’s definitely a clinic regular.”

“Hmm,” Yoda closed his eyes, feeling with the Force. “Interesting this could get.”

“Are we expecting he would come?” Cin asked. “I don’t even know if he’s in Temple right now.”

“In Temple he is. In this morning he came. Reported to the Council he did,” Yoda shrugged. “No major injuries.”

“He usually shows on his second or third day back, depending on how tired he is,” Gi-Ho reported. “It could go either way.”

“Quinlan Vos was thinking about attending,” Bes spoke up. “He said Kenobi offered to go with him since it can be intimidating at first.”

“Maybe we should start making people come,” Cin rolled his eyes. “Why do they think we’re intimidating?”

“Because you’re the Battlemaster,” Si shook his head. “Burrells used to bring cookies.”

“What did you do?”

Si shrugged. “I dragged unwilling participants in by the arm if I caught them doing something wrong in the practice rooms. They realized clinic wasn’t so bad and everyone else decided it was better to come by voluntarily.”

Gi-Ho snorted louder than he usually would.

“Also stopped by in leotard he did on days off. Less scary he was in dance costume.”

Si rolled his eyes. “The salle is on the way to the dance studios.”

“Sometimes ruffles and feathers he would wear.”

Si used the Force to slide the whiskey bottle to the other side of the table, away from Master Yoda, earning a round of laughter.

Cin steered the conversation back to business. “Master, do you think we should tell Obi-Wan not to come, or let it play out?”

Yoda stilled, instantly sober, feeling the Force. “Hmm, come I think he will, ready I think he is. Still worry about Jinn he does, seeing him in the salle help that will. Many new skills he has now, see that Qui-Gon has not. Make him anxious Qui-Gon still does. Better for him to confront this in the salle than in the field. Too easy to avoid each other in Temple it is, but learn to be in the same space they must.” Yoda nodded. “Tell him not. Let him come. Decide he can if stay he will. Very important saber work is to him. Avoid it long he will not, but expect him unnerved to be.”

Cin nodded. “Alright.” He swallowed the last of his tea. “On that note, I think we’re ready for tomorrow.” He nodded at Si, Bes and Monti. “I hope to see you all again, either at the clinic or the second session. Master Monti, we would of course welcome any historical information or clips you may want to provide, but don’t feel obligated. I hope you all have a good night’s sleep but be warned that the footage tend to give Jedi nightmares the first time through, so please know you’re in good company if it happens.” He stood up and stretched, snagging a cookie. “I’m off to bed.” He glanced at Yoda. “Would you like a ride home, Master?”

“Thank you, yes.” Yoda drained his cup and Cin took it to the sink with his own. Yoda gave Bes a smile, then glared at Si. “Talk more we will.”

Si rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master.”

“Smartass,” he grumbled as he climbed up Cin’s arm. Monti cracked up again.

Si stretched in his chair, then turned to Bes. “Ready to head back?” They had taken their evening pills during the break in the session, and it was getting late for being out of their rooms, much less out of the home.

“Yes.”

Si stood up, then helped Bes up. Monti gave Bes another knowing grin, then took one last cookie and followed them out. Gi-Ho and Daelen finished putting the room to rights, the former grabbing a water bulb from the chiller before he left, already well on the way back to sober and heading toward a good night’s sleep.

“Are you alright, Bes?” Si asked as they entered the lift. “You’ve been very quiet.”

“Anxious. Worried. Frightened. But okay.”

Si nodded. “Me too.”

“You’re frightened too?” Bes asked, as if this worried him more.

“Of course. Turned Jedi are one thing. I’ve dealt with that and it’s bad enough. This is a step beyond.”

“You’ve fought turned Jedi?” Bes had not heard _that_ story. “When was that?”

“Long time ago.” They reached the front desk and Bes signed them back in. The guard gave them a respectful nod. “I didn’t go straight from the Dip Corp into teaching,” Si continued. “I couldn’t do negotiations anymore, but I had been apprenticed to Master Yoda. The Council sent me out after a few rogues.” He shrugged. “Gave me something to do besides drill and go to therapy.”

He stopped in the intersection where they would part ways. “Thank you for your help, Bes.” He reached out and grasped Bes’s wrist through his sleeve, squeezing gently. Bes could feel the shaking like the flutter of bird’s wings. “I’m going to get ready for bed and meditate.” He waited until he had caught Bes’s eye. “You are welcome to join me if you want to.”

Bes had reached to take Si’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. They were warmer than he expected. He wondered if the tremor helped keep blood flowing. “For meditation?”

“Yes. And sleep.” He shrugged. “There may be bad dreams. No need to face that alone.”

It was a very tempting invitation.

“I, um, take my legs off when I sleep.”

“That’s fine. You can charge them in my room if you want to keep them close by.” As if it weren’t a problem at all.

“Okay,” Bes nodded. “I’ll come by. To meditate. And maybe . . .”

“Alright,” Si sent a gentle pulse of affection in the Force through his fingers and withdrew. Bes walked back to his room, his hand tingling and warm.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Old Kiffar. It’s just meditation and sleep.” He opened his bureau drawer, grateful he had some fairly new, if less than sexy pajamas. He looked down at himself. He used to be confident. He used to stride into his lover’s room naked or make a show out of disrobing. Now he was trying to decide which of his pajama sets was the least frumpy.

“You’re being silly, Old Kiffar.” He picked a pair of pants that on intact men came down to mid-calf, as they were the easiest to remove his lower prosthetics when he was wearing them, but still covered the stumps and the interface. He quickly washed up, changed his clothes and feeling optimistic, ran a comb through his hair. He put on his robe over his nightclothes, then put his charger and leg caps into his pockets. He took a deep breath and snuck a glance at his reflection. He still looked old and worn, and now anxious, but . . . He looked down at his hand and could feel the remnants of that warm pulse. Si had said they could go slow, that he could stay, even without legs. Maybe he meant Bes would stay on the couch.

He sighed. He was overthinking this. He stood up and slipped out his door. The hall was dim, but the floor lighting made it easy to navigate. He walked down the hall, turning corners until he had reached Si’s suite. The lock clicked and the door opened a few inches just as he reached it. He peeked in to find Si in dark, silk pajamas, sitting in the lotus position on a thick rug, the room lit by glow lamps to help make a calm space. A chair had been moved to be at hand if Bes preferred to sit there, but Si had seen him sit on the floor in group meditations, so he hadn’t made assumptions.

“Hi,” Bes released a bit of nervous energy.

Si gestured to both the chair and the rug, asking his preference. Bes carefully set himself down on the rug across from Si and the chair slid back against the wall. Si offered up his shaking hands as he had with Master Yoda at the vigil and Bes gently grasped them, accepting the invitation of a shared meditation. It felt a little strange. He had shared meditations with his master, other teachers, close friends, but with lovers he tended to have sex first and then maybe meditate later. Reversing the order, assuming they ever got to actual sex, was unusual for him, but given the odd circumstances, a shared meditation would probably help avoid nightmares, and help attune them to each other’s presence.

“I’ll understand if you need to let go, between my tremors and your psychometry,” Si said quietly.

Bes rubbed his thumbs over the tops of Si’s hands. “Okay so far.”

Si nodded and closed his eyes, reaching for the Force and finding his own equilibrium before opening himself to Bes. Bes followed his lead and focused on the moment: the feel of the carpet beneath him, the feel of Si’s hands in his own, no longer saber-callused but smooth, the sound of their breathing, the beat of his own heart, the soft glow of the dim light behind his eyelids.

He could feel it when Si reached an acceptable level of peace within himself and his lover’s attentions turned his way. His Force presence, usually so quiet and private, began to open and Bes let the light in, awed as he had been during the kiss to feel that vast and stately power turned toward him. He felt warmth, deep affection, concern, gratitude. Si might be afraid to go out into the rest of the real world, but in this plane there was no fear, no uncertainty. Bes supposed nine decades of shared meditation with Master Yoda would make one rather comfortable in that realm of existence.

Bes sent out a Force tendril, hesitant to actually touch, but it was met with a similar manifestation from Si, polite but powerful. Bes felt his body sigh as Si’s mind gently caressed his own, so much more intimately than the soft brushes of a group meditation. Force, it had been so long since he had trusted anyone to be this close, convinced his deformities meant no one would ever want to, but Si was touching his mind as if his body didn’t matter. As if his heart and mind and Force presence were enough on their own to interest him, to want to know him better.

With one last caress that left Bes gasping softly, Si pulled back into his own mind. Bes could feel the hands he was holding begin to tremble more and realized they had almost slowed to a stop during the meditation. He remembered they had done that at the vigil too, but he assumed that was Yoda’s doing at the time.

Si let go and rested his hands on his knees. “Ready to sleep?”

Bes took a deep breath and let it out. He felt warm, still and bright, as if Si had shone his light on all the dark and gloomy places and checked that there were no monsters hiding, waiting to disturb his sleep.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Good.” Si leaned forward, moving slow and Bes welcomed the chaste kiss. “Let’s get some rest.” Si moved his legs and stood. Bes marveled that Si could still get up off the floor with just his legs at his age. Si then leaned down, offering Bes his hands and arms to help him stand, more intimate than the usual sleeved arm. Bes grinned up at him as he regained his feet, then Si led him into his bedroom, still holding hands.

Bes had never been in Si’s bedroom before. It’s was clean and neat, two sets of pillows on the bed and the blankets turned down.

“There are power outlets on both sides,” Si was slipping out of his robe and hanging it on a hook next to the fresher door. “Pick whichever side works for you.” He held out his hands for Bes’s robe. Bes emptied his pockets on the bedside table and handed off his robe. Si politely turned away to give him privacy, hanging the robe while Bes dealt with his prosthetics and slid his knees under the covers. Si lowered the lights and climbed into the other side of the bed.

“Do you have enough room?” Si asked around a yawn as he used the Force to turn off the last light and adjust the nightlight so Bes could find the fresher. “It’s been a while since anyone larger than Yoda was here.”

Bes shifted, getting comfortable. “Yes,” he shrugged. “No feet, so I take up less space.”

Si settled into his pillow, then turned on his side to face him. “You have a brilliant mind and a beautiful heart, Bes. That’s all the important parts.” He reached out a shaking hand to caress Bes’s cheek, then let it slide down to rest against his arm. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.” Bes clasped his hand gently, smiling.

Si yawned again, closing his eyes. Bes rubbed his hand, feeling as Si released a few lingering anxieties, leaving a quiet contentment behind. The room, the bed felt warm, safe, quiet, but as he lay on the clean sheets Bes could feel that this bed had also hosted passionate love. Bes wasn’t sure how the logistics worked exactly, but it was clear that neither Si nor Yoda were celibate. And they were very close.

“Bes?” Si sounded half-asleep already.

“Hmm?” Bes asked in the dark.

“If my hands stop shaking, I’m not dead. Just asleep.”

Bes felt the tremor slowing, even now as Si relaxed more. He gave the hand another gentle squeeze, slightly surprised that there was no trace of arthritis in the joints. This hand, for all its trembling, still felt younger than his own. “Okay.”

“Scared Chenna half to death once,” Si’s voice was barely awake. “Didn’t want to upset you.”

Bes rolled over carefully, huddling closer, not sure if Si was open to cuddling. “Is this okay?”

Si pulled his hand out of Bes’s grasp and threw it over his shoulder, pulling him closer. “Don’t put your face on my neck if you psychometry there.” It wasn’t grammatically correct, but Bes could tell Si was more asleep than awake now.

Bes snuggled into his chest instead, hearing his slow, steady heartbeat. Si’s pajamas felt of meditations and sleep. He drifted closer to unconsciousness.

“Goodnight, Si.”

“Mmm.” Si’s hands barely trembled at all anymore.

Bes felt tears well up in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him like this beyond a brief hug. He kept his eyes shut until the prickling went away, but by then he too was asleep. He did have dreams throughout the night, and even woke up a few times, but no Sith could ever invade their peaceful sanctuary of the mind and the Force.

It was a very good night.

* * *

Jerrold steered Qui-Gon Jinn forcefully by the arm, surprised by how much muscle mass his agemate had lost. Fortunately he didn’t put up much of a fight, allowing his friends to herd him to Slo Min’s and push him into a booth without protest. Urdlea slid in next to him, followed by Freelen. Jerrold sat across from him, followed by Gelf.

“That was . . . an experience,” Gelf ventured.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Jerrold nodded his thanks at their server.

“I had no idea Master Silvanus was still so . . . sharp.” Freelen seemed slightly shell-shocked.

“I didn’t know Master Monti was _ever_ that sharp,” Gelf shook his head. “He always made historic Sith sound so dry and boring. All those graphs and statistics.”

“They were extinct before,” Urdlea sighed. “It wasn’t that what he has to say is more interesting now, as it’s more relevant now. It probably was interesting in a history geek way before. Now it’s interesting in an _I don’t want to die_ kind of way.”

“Is Master Silvanus really someone who we should be looking to for leadership here?” Qui-Gon grumbled. “He’s what, ninety and hasn’t had to face any real danger since he was a padawan?”

Urdlea rolled her eyes. Jerrold looked as if he wanted to smack Jinn upside the head.

“He seemed very well informed,” Freelen admitted.

“With book knowledge and practice sparring.”

“Actually, he’s 105,” Gelf sipped at the water the server had brought when she took their orders. “I asked Gi-Ho.” He played with his straw. “He was eighty-eight when he retired. He was Battlemaster for more than forty years.”

Even Qui-Gon had to admit being impressed by his stamina. “That’s my point. Our training and curriculum leaders hone themselves in the salle and never face real dangers. They pick apart our work and have no idea how to balance risk.”

“Balance risk?” Jerrold looked at him incredulously. “Which of your missions taught you that following a Sith into a death trap was a well-balanced risk?”

Urdlea cracked up at Jinn’s outraged expression. “Yeah, Quigs. Which one taught you to bring an unshielded Force savant into a covert mission?” There was a round of snickers.

“I did what I thought was best at the time,” Qui-Gon sniffed.

“Yeah, Quigs. That’s the problem. The present moment is only a moment. You need to think about the future because it’s gonna happen.”

Gelf had been quietly calming himself, listening to the byplay. “Alright, Quigs, if you think Cin and Master Silvanus are unqualified, who should be spearheading this? You? Obi-Wan?”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “Certainly not Obi-Wan.” He thought about it more. “Even if I were healthy, I wouldn’t want that job, but I think I would be qualified. Ideally, you want someone who has worked in the field, who has faced Dark Side Force users, who can adapt techniques and think outside the box, and who can teach others the skills they need.”

“Other than fighting Dark Side Force users, how does that not describe Cin and Master Silvanus?” Jerrold asked. “And don’t start that field experience nonsense again,” he continued when Qui-Gon moved to speak quickly, obviously not considering the question. “Cin visits us in the field regularly, and there are plenty of field challenges just being here on Coruscant.”

Qui-Gon paused, considering the question. “I still think they are too far removed from what we face to lead this.”

“Qui-Gon,” Urdlea resisted the urge to roll her eyes as the server came with their drinks and began passing them out. “If you think the leadership needs more input from field Jedi, give it. Why do you think Cin wants everyone to take these classes? He’s not just lecturing us; he wants our input too.”

“Master Silvanus clearly does not want my input,” Qui-Gon grumbled.

“Master Silvanus doesn’t _need_ your input,” Freelen mused. “He clearly sees more than the rest of us. But if you can’t find one person who meets all of those requirements, why not work with someone who meets the requirements you lack?” She gave him a pointed glance. “It’s not like you’re going on top level field missions anytime soon.”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “Not that I want to be in charge of this, but what necessary skills do you think I lack?”

“Humility,” Gelf replied.

“Foresight,” Urdlea added.

“Experience outside Ataru, since we’ve established it’s not sufficient,” Freelen sipped at her drink.

“You’re teaching skills are limited,” Jerrold picked up a protein ball. “Cin’s got you beat there.”

“I have teaching skills,” Qui-Gon argued.

“In Ataru,” Freelen retorted.

“I’ve had three padawans,” Qui-Gon fired back.

“Oh, wait, _now_ you’ve had three padawans?” Jerrold did not look amused. “You renounced Feemor when Xan turned, Xan _turned_ , and Yoda had to take Obi-Wan in as a half-padawan when you tried to replace him with Anakin. I think you’re going to have to concede that Cin is a more versatile and consistent instructor than you are.”

“Maybe we could be a team,” Qui-Gon’s tone was somewhere between sarcastic and willing.

“I think that’s probably the best we can do,” Jerrold sighed. “You’re the only Jedi I know of that has specifically gone up against Dark Force users, and even then, Xanatos was someone you trained. I _know_ there have been Jedi over the years who have turned, and the Council has sent out Jedi to apprehend them, but I don’t know who they sent.”

“I don’t know if you caught it in all the discussion,” Gelf added. “But it sounded like Master Silvanus used to be involved in training Jedi for that, and he implied Cin had too. They might not have been the ones who went out, but they train for it. They aren’t completely clueless.”

“Good point,” Jerrold agreed.

“It sounds like Cin is doing the best he can with the resources he has,” Freelen sighed, still unsettled by the whole thing. “I mean, who else could he get at this point, the Wraith?”

Most of the table laughed, some with humor, some ruefully.

“I thought the Wraith was an urban legend,” Gelf sipped his beer. “Or something some holo-film producer made up as an _unauthorized tale of the Jedi_?”

“Now, that isn’t as bad an idea as it sounds,” Qui-Gon seemed a bit excited about it. “Master Dooku always said that the holo-films were absolute rubbish, but there was a real Jedi the Wraith was based on and if I paid attention and learned about Jedi in that time period, I’d figure it out.”

“I heard the graphic novels were more accurate,” Jerrold shook his head. “But the part about the Wraith being a Grey Jedi was bantha poodoo. Very much in the Light, sent out by the Council, but gender and species were unknown. There might have even been more than one Jedi the character was based on.”

Urdlea rolled her eyes at boys and their comic books. “It’s not as if we can’t just ask. It’s not as if Jedi alive during that time period aren’t still alive. Like Yoda. Yaddle. Rancissus.” She shrugged. “Hell, Master Silvanus probably trained with the Wraith, even if he didn’t know it.”

“He was the Battlemaster. He must have known. If not, then Burrells would have. Or whoever was before him.” Jerrold rooted through the vegetables with a clean skewer.

“DeVeine,” Qui-Gon supplied. “Battlemaster before Burrells. The Wraith’s mission coordinator in the graphic novels was loosely based on her.”

“Hello, Noble Jedi,” Slo Min, a long-lived Kepp, came to their table to check on them. “I trust the Force has been with you?”

Jerrold laughed outright. “The Force was _not_ with Master Jinn tonight. He got schooled by Master Silvanus.”

Slo Min looked rather amused. “Good to hear Master Silvanus is still sharing his wisdom.” He looked them over carefully. “But I could have sworn I heard you young people talking about the Wraith,” he chuckled gently. “Usually I only hear about that when I’m working the soda fountain.” Slo Min ran both a tavern for his adult clientele and a soda shop for the younger Jedi and could be found in either on any given day.

“We were discussing how much of the character was based on reality. I don’t think the Council ever made an official statement,” Jerrold explained.

“Ah,” Slo Min glanced down at the empty space next to Gelf. “That’s a complicated story.” Gelf slid closer to Jerrold, offering Slo Min the seat.

“You’re of a species that would have been around then without calling you old,” Jerrold grinned, slightly buzzed. “Do you know the real story behind the well-written comic series and the terrible films?”

Slo Min chuckled quietly. “I _am_ old enough to remember some things. The Wraith was based on a real Jedi who did get sent out covertly to take out or capture turned Jedi. He was also called upon once or twice to take out Grey Jedi who had fallen too far, but he himself was not one.”

“So you can confirm the Wraith was male?” Urdlea asked.

Slo Min snorted. “I can’t say I ever checked personally, but yes, the Jedi Knight who the Wraith was based on did present as male, and I’ve never had a reason to think otherwise. When he was _not_ out challenging Dark Side users, he did sit in this very tavern and drink and socialize with his comrades. In fact, there is even a drink named for him.” Slo Min gestured at the drink menu with his long, elegant fingers. Jerrold pulled out the menu and tapped the tablet on.

“So there is. _The Wraith_ ,” he chuckled. “Right after _The Green Dragon_.” He peered closer at the text, knowing it was time to get his eyes adjusted. Again. “Black Geppal citrus tea, honey and frothed Bantha cream?” It seemed kind of mild for a Fallen Jedi Hunter. _The Green Dragon_ at least had alcohol. (Quite a lot of alcohol).

Slo Min chuckled. “That was his preferred drink during the day. He was also fond of Mandalorean vodka with tonic water, but that’s not enough for a signature cocktail. He opted for the tea before he would go before the Council as a pick-me-up when he would return from those missions.”

“Did he really track down Rogue Jedi and run them to ground?” Gelf asked.

“No,” Slo Min laughed. “The Council had various spies and trackers, both Jedi and not, who did the tedious tracking. The spies would confirm a Rogue Jedi’s location, then they would send in the Jedi known as the Wraith. He was authorized to kill them if necessary, but often brought them back alive. Sometimes, if he found they were disillusioned but not Dark he simply confiscated their lightsabers. He was granted considerable latitude and he was most definitely a warning to those who chose to leave the Order. If Jedi who left used their skills and knowledge to engage in Dark Side activities, the Jedi _would_ come after them.”

“What about the rumor that the Wraith was a former Jedi monk who was called on by the Force to police his less than righteous brethren?” Gelf asked.

Slo Min laughed heartily. “I must say, I’m quite familiar with the Jedi clergy, both current and former. No, he was a padawan turned knight, just like the rest of you. Even raised padawans. The Jedi hunting thing was only a short period in his life, and he was occasionally called up for it in later years. Why the sudden interest?”

Several of the Jedi chuckled. Jerrold explained they had all taken a class with Cin and they had been teasing Master Jinn because he felt the Wraith would have been a better qualified adviser than either Cin or Master Silvanus for dealing with the new Sith presence.

“I see,” Slo Min looked quite amused. “Well, the Wraith was quite well known to the last five Battlemasters. I am quite sure Master Drallig would have been familiar with him and would be able to consult his practices.”

“Not to mention Master Silvanus,” Gelf piped up. “He must have known him when he was younger.”

“Yes,” Slo Min chuckled. “Master Silvanus was quite familiar with the Wraith, but thought the media based on him was utterly ridiculous. However, I do recall a rumor that some of the more grownup comics were technically authorized and were based on a composite of several Rogue Hunters from earlier years. Part of public relations. The holo-films were most definitely _not_.”

“We used to play drinking games with those films,” Freelen snickered.

“You are far from the only ones.” Slo Min rose and gave them all a smile. “I think Master Drallig is probably more qualified than you think, but if you have concerns that he doesn’t have sufficient experience with Dark Side saber users, he no doubt knows people who do. You are welcome to suggest it, but as exciting and mysterious as the Wraith and the other Rogue Hunters are to the Jedi at large, they were well known to the teaching staff and worked with them, if more covertly.”

“Yeah, Qui-Gon has a little trouble doing things covertly,” Freelen joked, enjoying the loosening that comes with alcohol. Even Qui-Gon with his light ale, chuckled.

“You would also do well to continue to consult Master Silvanus if he is willing to speak with you. Like all Battlemasters, he has far more experience than he is at liberty to talk about.” Slo Min winked. “As barkeep, I _know_.” With a formal bow, he headed back to the bar to fill drink orders.

“Well, I can’t say I would have thought to consult Slo Min,” Freelen peered into her empty glass, disappointed. “But he has been around forever.”

Jerrold snorted, still perusing the menu. “Did you know Master Silvanus has a signature drink too?”

“Really?” Urdlea asked. “Hard liquor and thumbtacks so you too can sound like the great master?”

At the bar, Slo Min snorted.

“Um, no,” Jerrold peered at the text. “Caffeine-free white tea, sucra syrup and soothing len root extract.”

Qui-Gon hoped if he ever earned a signature drink at Slo Min’s it would at least contain alcohol.

“Well that will help if you _sound_ like Master Silvanus,” Gelf speculated. “And caffeine probably aggravated his shakes.” He considered his own raw throat after crying, then talking. “Kind of sounds good right now.”

“Master Monti has one too,” Jerrold reported. “It’s very, very dry.”

The table cracked up.

“Alright,” Urdlea held up her near empty drink. “Enough of Sith tonight. I want to hear non-Sith stories so I can sleep and Cin and Gi-Ho can kick my ass in the clinic tomorrow.”

“I’ve got a story,” Gelf grinned. “So have you ever tried to host negotiations with Gamorreans?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter made up for the short one previously. Lots of stuff happening here. Qui-Gon was smacked down, any thoughts? Master Monti got to show off his brains. Master Si reminded everyone why he was The Battlemaster. Yoda is always a bit of a mother hen toward his former padawans. Sometimes a wet mother hen. Bes got a little intimacy. And you got introduced to The Wraith (mentioned in Safe Harbor). Any thoughts about that? 
> 
> Hope it lived up to expectations! We'll be continuing the Re-education of Qui-Gon Jinn for a while. Thank you for reading!


	20. Part XX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The masters (and many other Jedi) show up to saber clinic, Obi-Wan is developing but still having issues, Qui-Gon learns a lot, Monti brings a surprise, Kressa gets a pep talk, lightsabers are discussed, a spy is discovered, Cin and Gi-Ho make best use of resources, Si gives advice (both personal and professional) and there is a lot of noise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted song lyrics are from Elton John's _I'm Still Standing_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHwVBirqD2s
> 
> More lightsaber stuff in this chapter. Hope it makes sense. If anything it really wrong, I'm just going to have to ask you to suspend disbelief. 
> 
> There are no chapter-specific warnings.
> 
> Several of you have said you have been bingeing on the fic. I feel like we should put in a disclaimer. Get up and walk around! Drink water! Take bathroom breaks!

_Don't you know that I'm still standing better than I ever did?_

_Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid._

_And I'm still standing after all this time,_

_Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind._

_I'm still standing._

\--Elton John, Bernie Taupin, _I’m Still Standing_

Cin finished his morning tea, then left his office and strolled down the hall toward the large practice salle, outwardly calm, but his mind was still abuzz with the previous night’s discussion. As he walked, he glanced into the different classrooms. K’Trill was doing morning drills with some initiates. Daelen was supervising several groups of young padawans sparring. Gi-Ho was leading Senior Padawans and Junior Knights in Ataru katas, minus the aerials, while Nori was supervising a class of Junior Padawans drilling with blaster droids. He walked past the main teaching rooms until he reached the smaller, private rooms where Jedi retreated to for individual instruction and rehabilitation.

Master Jinn was in one of these rooms, going through simple, Form I exercises with his physical therapist and his rehab coach. Several of the staff and regulars had already stopped by Cin’s office to warn him that Master Jinn had been treating his companions to a rather out of breath rant about last night’s seminar, at least until his coach had upped the tempo.

He stepped into the room without an invitation and stood in the back, evaluating. Although it was clear Qui-Gon would disagree, he was showing improvement since he had first returned to the practice salle. He was standing up straighter, his range of motion had improved, and his stamina, while terrible compared to what he had been before, had increased. Given his age he was progressing better than expected. Given his stubbornness, he was dissatisfied with it.

Qui-Gon reached the end of the sequence and returned to the rest position. “Good morning, Battlemaster,” he huffed. “Have you brought me some initiates to spar with?”

“No, I think your height gives you an unfair advantage.” He looked Qui-Gon over, by eye and with the Force. Years ago, Si had taught him not to be fooled by the Force illusion a Jedi might put up as a front. If the eye and the Force didn’t say the same thing, that could tell you a lot. Qui-Gon had been putting up a good front for the past several weeks until one compared it to his physical state. It seems he was finally deciding to drop it as his physical body began to creep closer to his imagined self. Or maybe it was just his renewed sex life. Master had been complaining about the noise, concerned it would drive his visitors away.

“Are you going to join us for the clinic?” Cin asked. “I know you’re not up to sparring, but your input is welcome.”

“Is it?” Qui-Gon asked, still smarting from the night before.

“It is. It always was.”

“How is this clinic different from the usual?” he asked, suspicious.

“Well, your fellow classmates may attend, and we try to bring in more of the teaching staff and more of the regulars who have been training for this specifically. When we figure out what works best, we do want to start a workshop for the younger Jedi to help focus their clinic sessions.”

“Hmm.” Qui-Gon wasn’t sure if Cin was trying to get him involved or just chatting. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“You’re welcome to join us,” Cin gave him a nod. “These clinics do tend to get spectators, so you wouldn’t be the only one in the stands.”

Qui-Gon looked down at his rather sweaty and disheveled self. “We’ll see.”

“Hope to see you there,” Cin clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Good improvement.”

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Cin’s back, reminding himself that it was petty and immature. Cin left to head back to the main salle and Qui-Gon trudged off to the showers.

When Cin arrived, the staff were already starting to gather. Noxa and K’Trill were doing warmups in one corner, Daelen was setting up and programming the recorder droids in case something worth debating later happened, and the Junior Padawans on salle duty were bringing in the cart with the towels and water bulbs. A few Jedi were starting to fill in the stands. Master Monti was one of them. He had brought his data pad, a recorder, and a long, black case, and looked absolutely delighted to be there.

Several more of the regulars arrived and began doing warmups before Gi-Ho came in and began filling in the day’s roster, trying to decide who to pair up together.

“You’re sure they won’t mind if I just watch?” Kressa asked as she, Quin and Obi-Wan reached the door.

“Master Drallig would prefer _everyone_ participate regularly, but Master Gi-Ho understands it’s a little intimidating,” Obi-Wan assured her. “If you want to participate you get a number from the session leader and explain why you’re there, and what you want to do. If you just want to watch, you sit in the stands.”

Kressa looked nervous. “I shouldn’t be afraid of this.”

They peeked in the door. Master Koon was performing his warmup routine, open-handed, his limbs moving rapidly and elegantly, his breath hissing evenly through his mask.

Quin gulped. “Master Koon is here. It’s perfectly rational to be intimidated.”

“I sat in the stands the first four times I came to saber clinic,” Obi-Wan reported. “It’s normal.”

“What changed the fifth time?” Kressa asked.

“Master Drallig called me over to demonstrate an Ataru kata for a young knight, then wiped the floor with me in open spar. It was awesome.”

Kressa and Quinlan shared a fond look. _Strange_.

“How long have you been coming to these?” Quin asked.

“Off and on, about six years. Master Drallig suggested it because my build is so different from my former master’s, and to be exposed to a wider range of techniques.”

“You came here when you were a _padawan_?” Kressa asked, incredulous.

“Yes, but I was an old padawan. Senior Padawans are allowed to watch. They need permission from their masters or the teaching staff to participate.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “You’re a knight. No one will force you or judge you for feeling it out first.”

They peeked in again. Obi-Wan looked eager to start.

“Are there usually this many people here?” Quin asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan frowned at them. “Master Drallig may be holding a Masters’ Seminar, so they may be focusing on something in particular at clinic today. We can still come; it will just be a little more crowded. Still, if it’s busy you need to know what your issue is and be succinct, because they have more participants.”

At Quin’s nod, Obi-Wan stepped into the salle and led him to Gi-Ho, who was assigning numbers and passing people off to specific instructors and sections of the floor. Kressa slipped into the stands to watch. Quinlan explained that he was looking for help with a DjemSo move (he had already asked about the foot placement issue at a short workshop) and was interested in additional sparring partners. Obi-Wan had some trouble with a Soresu block combination and was available for open spar if anyone was interested. Gi-Ho had been unusually quiet but gave them numbers and sent them off to warmup.

“Kressa, how nice to see you.”

Kressa looked up to see Master Bes carefully making his way down the aisle, followed by a tall, hooded figure in dark-shaded glasses that she suspected was Master Si. “Hello. I didn’t know you came to these.”

“We usually don’t.” Yes, it was Master Si. “We’re taking a seminar. The participants are testing new tactics before the talks resume.”

Bes stopped and carefully sat in the row below Kressa. Si gripped his arm securely until he was settled, concerned the narrow space between the rows would give him trouble.

“Here to brush up on technique?” Bes asked while Si surveyed the room from behind his hood.

“Just watching today.” She pointed out Quinlan. “Quin is having trouble with a new Djem So attack, and Obi-Wan said something about a Soresu thing that wasn’t working, and I tagged along.” She shrugged, “I have a lot of things to work on, but I’m not sure which to ask about first.”

“It’s okay to not know where to start,” Si assured her. “You can always go to a form workshop for a formal evaluation, but if you don’t have time you can just ask for general evaluation and a few recommendations. Better to ask on a less busy day though.”

Kressa looked at him in surprise. “They won’t find that a waste of their time?”

Si looked at her in surprise. “No. The whole point of the saber clinics is refinement, training and troubleshooting. Depending on who you ask they might just send you to the workshops to start out, but we know field Jedi don’t always have flexible schedules, so most will help you out. Or they may evaluate you and send you to a class to work on something specific, but with advice to help you focus your studies. Saber clinic is just like Saturday Study Salle, but with older people.”

“And less padawan posturing,” Bes added.

“I didn’t get to go to that much,” Kressa frowned. “My master didn’t get called back to the Temple often.”

“Clinic is an opportunity to improve and practice, not to get scolded,” Si kept looking over the participants.

“That’s what the seminar is for,” Bes whispered. Si shook his head at Bes’s joke.

On the floor, Obi-Wan and Quinlan had finished their warmups. Jerrold and Urdlea had arrived with several other knights and masters, having a lively discussion, recounting the previous night’s seminar. Jerrold gave Monti a wave as he headed to the warmup mats. Urdlea noticed Kenobi in the corner, suddenly hoping Qui-Gon wouldn’t show up.

Gi-Ho looked over his list. He knew Cin would want to touch base with and evaluate everyone from the seminar and made up a schedule for them. He could handle most of the remaining participants, but it sounded like Vos’s issue would best be handled by Cin as well. Still, the knight looked nervous, and Gi-Ho would need to see how he fought to know who to pair him with in sparring. Satisfied for now, he went over the schedule with Daelen before posting it, putting her in charge of scheduling walk ins and letting her know they were still expecting a few more from the seminar.

He stepped out into the floor and called for Vos and Kenobi. Kenobi looked mildly surprised. Vos looked anxious.

“Vos,” Gi-Ho nodded at him. “Kenobi is one of your regular sparring partners, yes?”

“Um, yes,” Quinlan seemed surprised Master Gi-Ho would know, much less care. “I spar more with Carlin, but I spar with Kenobi fairly regularly.”

“Good.” He gestured toward an open space. “Open spar for me so I can get a feel for your current skills. You haven’t been with us before and I need to know who to pair you with and what the issue with the Djem So looks like.”

Quin nodded and he and Obi-Wan squared off.

Across the salle, Jerrold was trying to defend himself from Noxa, the tempo much faster than he was used to in open spar. Urdlea was reviewing basic Soresu with K’Trill, wanting to start from the beginning before moving up to higher level defense. The Nautolan had arrived and Master Koon was wiping the floor with him.

“Are you cold?” Kressa asked Si. The salle was usually kept at a very comfortable temperature, but slightly cooler than the Temple at large due to the physical exertion. There were areas that were sometimes kept warmer or cooler to accommodate different species, and the smaller salles could be customized more quickly.

“No,” Si turned, giving her a wry grin. “Just trying to be inconspicuous.” He shrugged. “Not that the younger people would recognize me.”

Bes patted his knee. He suspected the desire for anonymity might be a result of the social anxiety, but cataracts or some other eye issue could also be at play with the glasses. Or he just might want to avoid conversation with all and sundry.

Bes looked on with interest as Quinlan and Obi-Wan danced for Master Gi-Ho. He had seen Quinlan spar over the years, though he could not recall seeing Kenobi.

“They’re both very good,” he commented to Kressa. Gi-Ho stopped the match and told Kenobi to stick to defense only and for Quinlan to go on the offense so he could troubleshoot the issue. Si watched with interest, wanting to see how Kenobi’s Soresu had developed.

“They are,” Si agreed. “Is Djem So Vos’s base form?”

“I think he intends it to be,” Bes replied. “But he needs more experience.”

“He has the build for it, and he is controlling his aggression well.”

“His footwork is good today,” Bes smiled.

“He’s been working on it,” Kressa leaned forward so she could speak quietly. “He took the sketch to a workshop. The instructor went over footwork with him for all the katas he knew, found a few more issues. Spent three days on just feet. He thought he’d never get to turn his saber on again.”

“He’s moving well,” Si tapped Bes gently. “Very nice, see how he glides right there? He seems very aware of his feet when he starts and stops, I can see him checking them, but he is moving them very cleanly and it’s becoming second nature.” He nodded in Kressa’s direction, not wanting to take his eyes off the floor. “Good improvement, he’s well on his way to solving that problem.”

“You had him spooked,” Kressa replied.

“Ah.”

They could practically hear Si’s eyeroll behind the shaded glasses.

“Finally, my terrifying reputation is put to good use.”

Kressa giggled.

“And how is your Niman going? I hear you’re being tutored by the Master of Ricochet.”

“I’m getting better at the Force tricks, but I still need a lot more work on my form and tempo.”

“Clinic is good for that,” Bes looked over his shoulder to give her a smile. “You get to spar against different opponents, but you also have experienced instructors looking for issues.”

Kressa sighed, still nervous.

“Perhaps it will help to think of clinic as the place where you’re supposed to make mistakes, so you _don’t_ make as many in the field.” Si’s gaze remained on the salle, moving over the different matches. Gi-Ho had stopped Vos and Kenobi again and was now going over the DjemSo move with Vos, demonstrating and correcting his position. Obi-Wan looked on, paying attention though it wasn’t his form. Si shifted on the bench, moving a bit further away from Bes. Gi-Ho sent Vos and Kenobi back out to the floor, letting the Kiffar try again. Kenobi was immediately on the defensive, Vos pushing him back, his attack much more focused, while Kenobi struggled to block it. Gi-Ho let them go for several minutes before stopping the match again and tutoring Kenobi in a block combination.

“Hmm,” Si sounded pleased. “He’s advancing well.” It was clear Obi-Wan had mastered the basics in a relatively short time.

“He practices a lot. We try to get him out to socialize, but if he runs against a problem, he has to work at it before he can relax.”

Bes frowned. “That Sith must be a harsh motivator.”

“His friends said he was like that as a padawan too.”

Bes looked concerned.

“His master was very talented and considered one of the best.” Si’s gaze moved over the different matches. “One can feel a lot of pressure to perform when that happens.”

Kressa grimaced. With a master like Yoda, Master Si probably understood very well.

Out on the floor, Gi-Ho watched Quinlan and Obi-Wan go back and forth, pleased with the corrections. He sent them to a different space to drill and called up another knight for a consult. Freelen and Gelf arrived, along with the last of the class stragglers, including Master Jinn, who felt very awkward sitting in the stands instead of getting a number and waiting for challengers.

Freelen and Gelf began warming up. Vos got sent to Noxa, Jerrold was sent to Koon, and Kenobi was sent to warm up Rence who had been running late. Qui-Gon sat down near Master Monti, suspecting the hooded figure near Master Bes was Master Silvanus, for all that the man had not entered a salle in nearly two decades.

“Master Jinn, how good to see you again.” Monti came closer, grinning broadly. “Here to watch the sparring?”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “And offer commentary.”

“They have quite the group today.” He gestured toward the far end of the salle. “Is that your former padawan working with Master Rence?”

Qui-Gon followed his gaze. Master Rence was a tall, imposing woman, a field Jedi who had been sidelined a few years ago by a bad (non-saber) wound and a resultant infection. She had become more involved in the informal teaching community while she had been recovering and did not go on as many missions as she had. Rumor had it Cin was going to offer her a permanent position as either an instructor or as part of Security. She was still quite formidable in the salle, but a job with regular hours and without the physical challenges of the field would better suit her current health.

Tall, heavy-boned and well-built, Rence was one of the few women Qui-Gon had met who could truly make Djem So their base form. The young knight she was sparring with was holding up well using mostly Soresu moves, but with more feinting and rapid maneuvers than would be expected. He certainly did look like Obi-Wan from a distance, the build the same, the hair much less bright under the salle’s artificial lighting, and the short, neat beard was no longer there. From this distance he could not identify the young man by eye, and he had already (quite embarrassingly) discovered he could not rely on his Force sense either. His saber style was completely unfamiliar.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Qui-Gon admitted. “I haven’t spoken to him recently.” He puzzled over the bizarre match the two were engaging in. Rence was on the offensive, going through the motions, not pushing hard, but it didn’t feel as if she wasn’t taking the match seriously as might be expected from a master of her experience sparring with a young knight. She was focused, but the heat of aggression was banked in favor of mastery of form. The young knight continued to both block and feint, even being so bold as to dash in to singe her workout clothes without going deep enough to burn flesh, not fully following the move through, the taps even lighter than classic Makashi, not committing enough to end the match.

The recorder droid floating above them chimed and flashed at them brightly, and both combatants stopped abruptly, bowing to each other. Rence looked herself over, noting the singe marks on her sleeves and pants, then turning to check in the mirror, frowning at her newly spotted self, and Qui-Gon realized it wasn’t a spar at all, but an exercise. The young knight had been feinting, identifying possible holes that he might exploit in her technique, even if he would probably let them pass in an actual spar, not quite enough of an opportunity to attack.

“That’s a lot, Kenobi,” Rence said at last, scowling at herself. “That’s more than last time.”

Obi-Wan looked apologetic. “I could read you better this time. In truth, I’d only have attempted the attack here,” he pointed to a burn on her forearm. “And here,” he pointed to another on her shoulder. “And I wouldn’t expect them to go unchallenged. But if you were up against someone faster and more aggressive, they might be able to get in under your guard in those places.”

Her scowl softened into a grin. “Thanks for the warmup, Kid.”

Obi-Wan nodded respectfully and then went to lean against the back wall, waiting to be called, rather than sitting down in the stands.

“I’m fairly sure that’s him” Qui-Gon said at last as Obi-Wan’s shields came up. He was fairly sure he had been spotted too.

“He’s quite fast,” Monti commented. “He was sparring with another knight earlier.”

Qui-Gon bit his tongue against the remark that Obi-Wan was rather slow on catwalks and just hummed instead. “Haven’t seen him spar recently,” he replied when he could trust his tongue again.

Back on the floor, Gelf finished his warmup and was passed on to wait for Rence. Jerrold walked over to stand with Obi-Wan and cool down between matches.

“You never mentioned _you_ killed the Sith,” Jerrold gratefully took a water bulb from the young padawan who was watching the matches with great interest.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I got lucky. He got careless. And Master Jinn was impaled. It was hardly a victory.” Obi-Wan sipped his own water. “I take it that was the topic of Master Drallig’s seminar?”

“Yes,” Jerrold watched as Vos scrambled to defend himself from Noxa’s sudden attack. He’d felt the same way going against Koon. “I see why you opted for Soresu.” He shook his head. “I feel like we’re behind schedule. You’ve been training to fight the next one since it happened and the rest of us are playing catch up, hoping the Sith are still following the Rule of Two.”

“Would you, if you were the Sith?”

Jerrold considered it. “Only if I had a backup waiting in the wings.”

“Exactly. If they chose to reveal themselves, we don’t have a whole apprenticeship to wait for the next one.”

“No wonder Sith recruited Jedi,” Jerrold joked. “Much less work.” He gave Obi-Wan a sidelong glance. “You’re not putting in an application, are you?”

Obi-Wan snorted. “I fall into holes and study Soresu. I think the Dark Side can find better recruits.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short,” Jerrold laughed. “Seriously, I’m very glad you’re on our side. Now if we can just keep Qui-Gon from pissing off Master Silvanus enough to defect, I think we’ll have a sporting chance,” he gestured at the master in question.

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in surprise as he spied Bes and his tall companion. “Master Silvanus came to clinic?”

“He came to seminar,” Jerrold tossed his empty bulb into the recycler. “He gave your former master a blistering critique he won’t soon forget.”

Obi-Wan choked back a laugh, trying to imagine it.

“Oh, it was quite the showdown. Then he started analyzing the Sith’s technique with Monti, ran rings around poor Cin, and that’s _not_ a criticism of Cin.”

“He was the master who first suggested I study Soresu, but I haven’t spoken to him about my saber work specifically since then. Still, he makes almost casual comments that are often . . . mind-blowing.”

Jerrold looked at him, surprised. “You’ve _met_ Master Silvanus?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Master Yoda visits him often. Sometimes I tag along. He also sat vigil when I was ill, so Master Yoda could do his actual work. He’s been teaching me more Breggle techniques. Not this visit, but the last few.”

“You _do_ know Breggle moves can be used in combat, yes?” Jerrold asked, knowing Qui-Gon would not have taught this.

“Oh, I figured that out,” Obi-Wan assured him. “But Master Drallig had already mentioned it.”

Gi-Ho called up both Jerrold and Kenobi to an open space to spar while Vos tried to catch his breath and Koon stopped by to chat with him. Rence was giving Gelf a run for his credits and Noxa was taking a breather before engaging Urdlea. Freelen was getting tutored by Cin, clearly still anxious from the talks the day before.

“Poor Quinlan,” Bes chuckled. “Noxa really put him through his paces.”

“And _this_ is why we find saber clinic intimidating,” Kressa grumbled.

Si slid a few more inches over. Bes wondered if he had inadvertently been too informal and made him uncomfortable.

“How much do you think he learned today, from just the one consult with Master Gi-Ho and the spar with Noxa?” Si asked, still not looking away from the matches, keenly focused on Jerrold and Kenobi.

Kressa sighed. “A lot, probably.” She shrugged. “It’s just hard to be reminded how bad you are at something.”

“Who told you that you were bad at saberwork?” Si asked.

“I’ve been sent to remedial classes before and I was paired up with Vos when I was sent into the field.”

“I see,” Si shifted in his seat, stretching his arms. “And it’s Vos’s job to do the physical work while you do the diplomacy?”

“Um, no,” Kressa frowned. “We both have to do both. But he’s much better than I am.”

“He’s also, what, five years older than you?” Si guessed. “With that many more years of knighthood under his belt?”

“Yes.”

“And were you instructed by the Council that in the event that Vos is ever captured, you’re to report to your superiors to get them to mount a rescue party, or are they confident that you are skilled enough to have your field partner’s back?”

“No,” Kressa snorted. “I use my saber in the field. We fight together.”

Si turned around and looked her in the eye as he took off his glasses. “Then I think it’s safe to say the Council and the Battlemaster find you to be quite competent at saberwork. They don’t send Jedi out into the field who can’t defend themselves _and_ their field partners.” He turned back around to see Obi-Wan was still holding up against Jerrold’s attacks. “Don’t compare yourself to others and get discouraged. Vos is quite suited to Djem So and considerably more developed than you are now. Kenobi is frankly exceptional and barring injury could be among the best of his generation. You need more confidence and experience, but you can still roll with changing conditions and can think outside the box. Your physical build is on the slight side, but you are well-conditioned, strong for your size and work well with a partner. If you were _bad_ at saberwork, you wouldn’t be a field knight.”

Kressa looked at Bes, both of them confused. “That’s very kind of you to say, Master Silvanus, but I’ve never had you evaluate my saber work.” She wondered if he was mixing her up with his no doubt hundreds of other students.

“You were in that workshop with Kenobi.” His eyes never left the match, but he suddenly leaned forward, watching intently.

“Yes,” she answered, not sure why that was relevant.

“Drallig had me consult on Kenobi. Well, Yoda asked technically. You were in several of the clips. Excellent improvement in a very short time.”

Kressa gave Bes an incredulous look, but he just shrugged as if to say this sort of thing was quite normal coming from Si.

“Thank you.”

“Thank Drallig. He’s had students like you before. Experience, exposure and encouragement are what is needed most. Truthfully, I doubt he really needed any help with Kenobi, we were very much in agreement about the Soresu; he just hadn’t thought it all out yet. With a student like that it’s tempting to throw him right into Form V, but it doesn’t address the weaknesses in his repertoire the way Form III does.”

Out on the floor, Jerrold and Obi-Wan reversed direction, Kenobi driving the older knight back despite relying on defensive blocks.

“Ah!” Si sounded a bit excited. “Would you look at that!”

“Is he using Form III _offensively_?” Kressa asked, puzzled.

“Huh,” Bes looked dumbfounded.

“Yes!” Si sounded thrilled. “He’s not using the classic moves, those are very advanced Soresu katas, but he understands the concept. Oh, that’s wonderful!”

Jerrold looked as flummoxed as Bes as he tried to attack while walking backwards, unsure how this was supposed to work. Gi-Ho has paused the knight he was working with to watch, and Drallig was watching intently from his corner, Freelen beside him looking utterly baffled.

“What the hell is he doing?” Qui-Gon stared at his former padawan, mystified by his frankly bizarre technique.

“Oh my,” Monti sounded pleasantly surprised. “Haven’t seen anyone push Soresu like that in years. He’s actually herding Marcus.”

“Herding?” Qui-Gon asked, watching the match intently.

Obi-Wan and Jerrold reached the edge of their practice space and Kenobi began to yield again, backing off and letting Jerrold come to him rather than attempt to turn them. Jerrold looked noticeably relieved.

“Yes, herding. Funny name but quite accurate. He was using Soresu to direct the match offensively instead of defensively. Haven’t seen that in years. Master Bleven could do that, and Si of course, but he didn’t do it often and was more subtle about it. Still, if his first form was Ataru, it’s not surprising your apprentice would figure it out.” Monti looked over, caught Si’s eye and they gestured back and forth, acknowledging the technique. Si was clearly excited by the development.

“Well, herding is one thing. Seems like a waste of energy if there is nowhere to herd him to.”

“It works well on uneven ground, cliff edges, that sort of thing,” Monti commented. “Also, can take opponents by surprise, knock them off balance. Can be used to create an opening without forcing it like Djem So, but it’s even more popular historically when used in combination. The Soresu keeps the Jedi grounded in the Light, but if the attack is in Djem So, it can be quite effective.”

“He’s kind of small for Djem So,” Qui-Gon tried not to sound as impressed by Monti as he felt.

“Yes, it’s a good combination for physically smaller Jedi who can’t sustain Djem So long term.” He patted Qui-Gon on the arm. “He’s quite an asset to the Order and a credit to your teaching.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “I didn’t teach him that.”

Jerrold had pushed Obi-Wan back into the center of the space again, but still could not get past his guard. He was starting to see the appeal of Soresu; he had already used up a lot of energy in the previous match, and Kenobi clearly had the advantage of youth. Form III was much more energy efficient, but this wasn’t Kenobi’s first match of the day either. He backed off suddenly, then launched a new attack. Kenobi didn’t flinch, but met him head on, and suddenly there was a hot blade at his neck.

“Kriff!” Jerrold signaled the yield and backed off. Kenobi powered down his saber and bowed.

“You’ve been practicing.” Jerrold’s expression warred between sour and impressed. Kenobi had expanded his repertoire in just the time Jerrold had been in Temple and he hadn’t even been in residence the whole time.

“I have,” Obi-Wan nodded. “You also just sparred with Master Koon. That would not have worked if you hadn’t been tired already.”

“It might have,” Jerrold acknowledged. “What was that thing you were doing when you pushed me across the salle?”

Obi-Wan shrugged modestly. “Something I read about. I know I wasn’t doing it right, but I wanted to see if it would work.”

“You keep working on it, Kid,” Jerrold grinned.

Back in the stands, Si and Bes continued to watch the matches, talking quietly with Kressa. Freelen had been sent to Rence and was not holding up well. Quinlan had been paired with a knight they didn’t know, and they were both finding each other a good challenge. Drallig called Jerrold over to consult and Koon faced off with Urdlea.

“So are you going to participate the next time you come?” Bes asked Kressa.

“I should,” she conceded. “It’s still intimidating, but it seems like you can really learn a lot.”

“Yes, you’ll get much more out of it that way,” Si leaned back, stretching. “Though you’d be surprised what you can learn just hiding in the stands.” Suddenly his arm shot down into the row behind him, digging under the seats. There was a loud bang, a scuffling noise, and several rapid slapping sounds. When Si pulled his arm back out, he had Master Yoda hanging in his grip.

“Good morning, Master.” His voice was raspy, but his tone was almost sugary. “Don’t you think you’ll be able to see better up here?”

Si was gripping Yoda by the back of his tunic and robes. The tiny master had crossed his arms and was glaring at his former padawan. Bes and Kressa looked on, stunned.

The two masters stared each other down, communicating silently. After another moment of intense glaring, Si put Yoda down on the bench between himself and Bes.

Bes looked down at him warily. “Are you alright, Grandmaster?”

Yoda was still glaring at Si and hissed at him before turning to the Kiffar. “Fine I am. Good matches at clinic today there are?”

“Um, yes. Quite exciting today.”

“Things going well with you and Si are?”

Si rolled his eyes.

“Um, that’s going fine, I think.”

Kress stifled a giggle. Quin had been so happy for Bes when he heard, he had practically run home to tell her.

“Master,” Si’s tone held a note of warning.

“Bed him you have not. Do that you should. Good for him you would be.”

Bes blushed painfully red. Kressa gasped in shock.

“Master, you can be angry with me all you want, but leave Bes alone.”

Yoda looked up and blew a raspberry at Si. “Cranky you are, Padawan.”

“Hmmph,” Si turned back to the matches.

“Why are you, um, angry at Master Silvanus?” Bes asked cautiously.

Yoda patted his arm reassuringly. “Worry not. Smartass he is being.”

Si crossed his arms. “He’s annoyed because I spoiled his stakeout. He was spying down there.”

“Hmph,” Yoda made a point of turning away from Si and slid closer to Bes. “Very cranky.”

“Were you spying on, um, us, Master Yoda?” Bes sounded a bit hurt.

Si gave the tiny master another glare. “No, he was not.”

Yoda hissed at him again over his shoulder.

“Spy on Simet I do not have to. My padawan he was. Obvious it would be if laid he got.”

“Oh,” Bes replied faintly. Kressa smothered nervous laughter.

Si turned back to the matches, waiting to see who Gi-Ho would pair up next. “He’s spying on his duckling.”

“Oh.” Bes looked back out on the floor where K’Trill was showing Kenobi the next Soresu kata. They were all available in print and video forms, but a live instructor could check for errors and help refine technique.

Yoda stared out at the floor, ears tipped down, admitting nothing.

“You’ll probably get better intel sitting up here and talking to his friends then you will by hiding under a bench, poking me because my leg is in the way.”

“Hmm, not one who should poke you I am,” Yoda grumbled as he settled on his seat, patting Bes on the knee before giving Kressa a speculative glance.

“Is there a reason for this, um, duck hunt?” Bes asked.

“Yes.” Yoda did not elaborate further.

“He’s been socially and emotionally withdrawn,” Si explained. “Master Yoda is understandably worried but hasn’t been able to get him to confide his troubles.”

“Concerned I am,” Yoda crossed his arms, looking stubborn. “Check on him I am. Reasonable this is.”

“Reasonable?” Si rolled his eyes. “Just talk to him directly. Let him know you are concerned. Drop the spy games.”

“Hmm, avoiding me he is.”

“You’re the Grandmaster of the Jedi Temple. I _think_ you can work around that.”

“He’s avoiding you?” Bes frowned. “Oh, dear.”

Kressa glanced over the combatants. “Um, not to pry, but are we talking about Knight Kenobi?”

Yoda gave her a sharp glance.

Kressa shrank a bit in her seat, holding up her hands. “I was guessing it was an endearment and Master Drallig didn’t seem, um, ducky.”

Si chuckled. Bes burst out laughing.

“Yes,” Yoda admitted, then smacked Si’s leg. “A duck he is _not_.”

“It’s a reference to when he was much younger,” Si explained.

“We’ve also noticed Obi-Wan’s been very withdrawn lately. We try to include him, but he just says he has an issue to work out. Frankly, Quin and I were surprised he came to the clinic with us. We were starting to think it was something we did.”

“Talk to him directly, Master,” Si shook his head slightly. “He’s floundered long enough on his own.”

“I know he respects you, Master Yoda,” Bes frowned. “Why is he avoiding you?”

“A personal issue he is having. Close to the chest he is playing it.”

“He’s avoiding everyone, as far as we can tell,” Kressa leaned forward. “We also weren’t expecting his master to be here, so I’m really surprised he stuck around.”

Yoda glanced over to where Qui-Gon was sitting with Master Monti, also half-surprised Obi-Wan hadn’t left.

Cin had a break between consults and came over to talk to the Jedi in the stands. Monti grinned up at him brightly.

“Good morning, Gentlemen. Enjoying the matches?”

“Oh, yes.” Monti was gleeful. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to the salle.” He looked out over the floor. “Good to see a live demo. Helping me remember details I forgot I knew.”

Cin smiled back. “Glad to hear it. How about you, Master Jinn?”

“It’s odd to be a spectator, but it’s also very . . . educational.” Qui-Gon seemed surprised it wasn’t a waste of time. “You seem to have increased the intensity of the bouts since the last time I was here.”

“Stakes have changed.”

“Oh,” Monti popped up to his feet and reached for the long, black case. “Speaking of things having changed, I found this buried in the back of my closet.” He opened the case to reveal an elegant lightstaff nestled into the velvet-lined interior.

“Wow,” Cin blinked down at it. “Where is this from?” It didn’t feel Dark. Qui-Gon peered down at it warily.

“Moosie.” Monti wiped a mote of dust off the hilt. “I used to use it in some lectures about historical weapons. Moosie made a nicer one for the museum exhibits, but this was an earlier version which worked well for class. Master Koffee used to do demos with Knight Joris or Master Silvanus.” Monti almost giggled in excitement. “It still works. I tested it.”

Gi-Ho came over, studying the weapon. He got a bit of a chill down his spine, but it was from association, not from the Force.

Cin looked up to see Si had come over to take a look, leaving Master Yoda in an animated conversation with Carlin and Master Bes. Si leaned down and ran a hand along the length of the hilt, not touching, but feeling it, getting a sense for the construction.

“Double-bladed, safety setting only, the blades are different colors, but with compensators to keep the weapon balanced.” He glanced at Monti. “I wondered where this old thing had ended up.”

“Why are the blades different colors?” Qui-Gon asked, morbidly curious.

“It’s a training weapon,” Si explained. “Although it wasn’t that uncommon in field weapons. This one was designed with two colors to better track the blades when analyzing technique, particularly on recordings. As for field weapons, some practitioners would have weaknesses in their form, and be more prone to singe themselves with one side or the other, which was a particular danger when falling. They would make one side with a permanent safety setting and the other variable in different colors so they wouldn’t mix them up. Another reason would be to compensate for some unilateral injury or disability. If you make the two blades in different colors, but don’t compensate evenly, you can hold the blades steady with unbalanced strength. Of course one can’t do the spin maneuvers like that, at least not for long.”

“Have you used it before?” Cin asked.

“This one specifically?” Si frowned down at it. “I think so. I don’t know how many Moosie made, but I’ve used and sparred against either this one or one very similar.”

“How do you turn it on?” Gi-Ho asked. Moosie’s designs were often elegant, but not always obvious.

“There are switches on the bottom, but there is also a Force safety lock. Unconventional compared to a single blade but accommodates the different grip techniques. Moosie also learned the hard way that unconventional weapons attract the curious, so he added the Force locks.”

Qui-Gon Jinn looked away. It was distinctly possible he _might_ have been the reason. Or one of several.

Gi-Ho followed Si’s example and felt along the hilt. Moosie had been dead for decades, but he could still recognize his work. “Are we going to fire it up?”

Monti grinned. “I didn’t carry it all the way here for you to just look at it.”

Gi-Ho and Cin looked down at the weapon, unsure the best way to approach it.

Si looked at the both of them and rolled his eyes. He checked his hands, pleased to find they were only mildly shaking, much of his anxiety subsiding in the previous hour. It was a safety weapon, and he could probably compensate well enough for a few minutes. He held one hand over the case and steadied it with the Force. Both Cin and Gi-Ho felt the familiar fluctuation and backed up just before the shaft shot up into Si’s hand. As soon as it hit his palm, he activated the first blade and a bright flare of green shot out, singing in harmony, then Si flipped the hilt over his hand as he activated the second blade, this one brilliant yellow, the stones harmonizing amongst themselves and with the green blade. It was an amazing piece of workmanship, the sound noticeably clear and pure. Kanu Resonance at its finest. Knights and masters all across the salle stopped to listen.

“Yes, I’ve used this one before,” Si confirmed. He also stepped back and left the staff to hover over its case, inviting Cin and Gi-Ho to have a go with it. “Excellent condition.”

Cin cautiously approached, gripping the hilt with first one hand, then the other, feeling when Si let go and the full gyroscopic effects came into play. Not quite trusting himself to hold it one-handed, he put it through a few simple moves, surprised at how different it felt and how it affected his own movements. He glanced around at the other masters. “Think we could convince Master Noughten to make a few more?”

“If he has the plans.” Si looked grim. “It’s not a trivial thing to design.”

“Oh, I have copies of the schematics. I’ve had students do a full analysis of weapons like this for class before. Obviously, I’d rather them pore over plans then dismantle anything.”

Cin carefully handed off the still lit weapon to Gi-Ho, whose face turned comical as he felt the familiar saber forces in a completely unfamiliar configuration. Qui-Gon stared at the staff, trying not to shudder, but also oddly comforted that Jedi had once trained against such weapons and could defeat them.

Gi-Ho carefully carried the weapon to the mats and attempted a staff-adapted kata. It was uncharacteristically clumsy, very different from a wood staff, but it was certainly within his abilities. When he reached the end, he doused the blades.

“ _That_ is going to be an interesting project,” Gi-Ho’s voice was a mix of excited and intimidated. He looked at Monti. “May we borrow this until Master Noughten can build a replacement?”

“You can keep it, so long as someone is willing to come demonstrate it for class,” Monti looked a bit embarrassed. “I don’t use it well myself.”

“Deal,” Gi-Ho agreed. “How did you end up with it?”

Monti rolled his eyes. “Moosie was going to dismantle it after Joris returned it to him when he retired. Said it was taking up space and he was working on how to balance and customize paired sabers. Fortunately I intervened. Si helped me out a few more times and Koffee would sometimes volunteer, but by the time he retired from teaching, Laelen just wasn’t interested.”

It was clear from Si’s expression that this didn’t surprise him.

“Are you going to take it out for a spar?” Monti asked eagerly.

Cin looked to Gi-Ho. “I haven’t worked with the guild. Is there anyone here who can handle it?”

Gi-Ho looked over the crowd, considering. “Rence. She done sparring with a staff before. Don’t know about a lightstaff though.”

“Think you can convince her?”

Gi-Ho grinned. “She likes a challenge.” The group dispersed. Cin worked through the rest of the seminar participants. Rence and Gi-Ho inspected the light staff with Monti and Si. A few knights who had been sparring stopped by to consult with Master Jinn, or just to say hello, not having seen him in a long while. Urdlea and Freelen began sparring, Freelen finally finding her rhythm with a familiar face.

Cin came back around to see how Gi-Ho and Rence were doing. Both were drilling with wooden staffs before they planned on turning the staff back on. Several Jedi who had taken the seminar or a recent workshop were starting to gather, interested in a live demonstration.

“You ever try this with a lightstaff?” Cin asked Rence.

“No,” she replied at the end of the kata. “But I got to hold a lit one once. They’re weird, but neat.”

“Who are you sparring with?”

Rence grinned. “The kid agreed to go half-speed with me.”

“Make him use his new saber. He needs more practice at slow speed.”

“Sure thing, Bossman.”

“I’m not your boss, Rence.”

Rence snorted, then gave Kenobi a wicked smile as he came up behind Drallig. “Ready to play?” She nodded at the unlit staff in the case. “That staff is a thing of beauty, even if it’s just safety blades.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan replied, leaning over to inspect it. “I could hear it across the salle.”

“Made by the late, great Knight Kanu himself,” Cin shook his head. “Not many of those weapons left, but you can really hear the difference when you use his resonance techniques.”

“I tried to follow them,” Obi-Wan patted at his multi-crystal hilt. “Some made intuitive sense and others I couldn’t figure out at all.”

Cin chuckled. “Moosie Kanu _was_ a genius when it came to sabers but getting him to explain _how_ he did things was like pulling rancor teeth. He wasn’t secretive by any means, he almost desperately tried to share his knowledge, but he didn’t really communicate well. You’re not the only one to have trouble with some of his techniques, but you clearly understood the general principles. I’ve heard it in your blade.”

Rence looked skeptical. “A _field_ Jedi with a Kanu Resonance blade?” She snorted. “Usually only Temple Jedi have the time to bother.”

“We should really start _making_ time,” Cin grumbled. “They hold up better.”

“And the sweat equity discourages loss,” Obi-Wan added.

Rence passed off her wooden staff to Gi-Ho. “You ready for this, Kid?”

Obi-Wan silently released some tension into the Force. “Yes. It’s better to face it here than in the field.”

She nodded, acknowledging his apprehensions. “Half speed, safety only.”

Cin caught Kenobi’s eye. “Try not to actually scorch the polish if you transect the hilt.”

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Hey,” Quinlan Vos joined Kressa in the stands, sweaty, tired and exhilarated. “You okay up here?”

“Yes,” she smiled up at him as he sat next to her. “The matches were very educational, and the conversation was enlightening.”

Vos glanced at both Yoda and Bes, amused. “No doubt.”

“Good sparring today, Quinlan.” Bes seemed genuinely impressed. “Your Djem So has improved a lot”

Vos ducked his head. “Thank you, Master Bes.” He looked out at Obi-Wan and Rence who were walking toward a more central sparring area. “Is that really a double-bladed staff? I couldn’t be sure from where I was standing.”

“Yes,” Yoda confirmed. “Very nice weapon is.”

“It certainly is.” Si had come back to their group, wanting to have a good seat for the match. “One of Moosie’s. Monti had it buried in his closet.”

“Really?” Bes knew Moosie’s old works must be floating around somewhere but couldn’t remember the last time he had run across one.

“The Moosie who was in the art show?” Quin asked.

“Yes, Knight Kanu,” Bes confirmed. “He was brilliant with sabers and optimizing crystal conditions.”

“If you want an example of what an excellent multi-crystal blade sounds like, either of those blades would suffice,” Si explained. “What really makes that weapon special is the way the two blades harmonize with each other.”

In the center ring, Obi-Wan and Rence bowed to each other, then took their respective positions. Still not completely confident in handling his new saber as well as his old one, Obi-Wan fired up his weapon first.

Si and Bes immediately stilled at the sound. Monti and Jinn looked surprised. Cin’s expression didn’t change, but Gi-Ho suddenly looked thoughtful.

“Where did he get that saber, Master?” Si asked carefully.

“Built it he did,” Yoda smiled proudly. “His very best work he did.”

Si held up a shaking hand, trying to feel the weapon, even at a distance. “The harmonics are very well done.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Very rooted in the Force his saber is.”

Out of the floor, Rence raised an eyebrow. “Nice saber, Kid.” She grinned. “You had that pretty thing and you were using that clunky one?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Still learning to use it.”

“It’s a beaut.” She reached out with the Force, feeling for the safety lock on the lightstaff. “Sings almost as pretty as this one.”

“Thank you.”

Rence fired up first one blade, then the other, not noticing the rest of the salle growing silent.

“Oh,” Bes gasped quietly.

“Yes,” Si agreed.

“What?” asked Quinlan.

Yoda hummed to himself, nodding.

“I told you,” Kressa whispered. “Master Gi-Ho said it had a fine voice.”

“A very fine voice,” Si concurred. “It could pass for a Kanu blade.”

“It can?” Quinlan stared at the floor. He had known Kenobi’s blade had a fine sound and that he had gone to great lengths to use Kanu principles to construct it, but when compared to an actual Kanu blade side by side, he suddenly realized he would be hard-pressed to differentiate them by sound alone.

“Am I getting hard of hearing, or does Knight Kenobi’s saber achieve Kanu harmonics?” Bes asked.

“It does,” Yoda nodded. “Thought it might at First Lighting I did. Disappointed I was not.”

“You can really hear it when they are side by side like that.” Kressa glanced down at her own, perfectly serviceable, but much more mundane, saber. “I didn’t really notice it before.”

“Did you help?” Si asked Yoda.

“Need it he did not,” the elder replied. “Suggested several stone types I did.”

“It’s really quite a nice weapon,” Si watched as the two combatants approached each other and began their slow spar. Rence opted not to spin the staff just yet, but to slowly expand her range of motion, rotating a few degrees left, then right. By agreement, Obi-Wan attacked, letting Rence move defensively first. At half speed Rence met the attack easily and when the two blades touched the sound was much louder than expected, resonating throughout the salle. Obi-Wan and Rence shot away from each other so fast Si almost laughed.

“What the hell?” Quinlan asked, his tone matching Obi-Wan’s and Rence’s faces.

“When two very well-harmonized sabers connect, you can hear it,” Bes explained. He gave a low whistle.

“Very nice.”

“Keep going,” Cin encouraged from the sidelines. “There’s nothing wrong. Both blades are just exceptionally well-tuned. Nothing is going to blow up.”

Obi-Wan did not seem entirely convinced. “It’s never done that before.”

Gi-Ho snorted. “It’s never met another Kanu-harmonized blade before. We’ve got to pit you against some of the older masters who still have them.”

Cin gestured for Obi-Wan to try again. Cautiously, the knight approached, and the sabers rang out again as they connected, both combatants wincing slightly, but better prepared this time.

“That’s very loud,” Quinlan observed. “Wouldn’t that be a liability in the field?

“It’s definitely not stealthy,” Bes agreed.

“Would a Sith tune their saber that well?” Kressa asked. They seemed to do all the other Jedi things bigger and better.

“Certainly possible, but less likely,” Si’s eyes never left the match. “Monti would know more, but if I recall correctly, Sith tended to disharmonize their weapons, or use discordant harmonies. It could increase the power of the weapon and could accentuate minor harmonic imbalances and impurities in an adversary’s weapon, weakening their opponent’s blade. It was why Moosie got so obsessed with harmonics. Better harmonized blades stood up better. He wanted to find out _why_ they harmonized, what the rules were, so you didn’t just leave it up to the Force and chance.”

“Too bad he’s not here now,” Quinlan sighed.

“Well, it looks like it can still be done,” Kressa shrugged.

“It can,” Si caught Cin’s eye. “We need to get Noughten and Igneous involved. Padawans are required to build their own single-crystal sabers, but multi-crystal blades often benefit from an expert.” He gestured at his own saber. “Moosie helped me refine the alignment. I knew it could be improved, but my hands were starting to tremble.” He shrugged. “I could pick well-balanced stones but lacked the fine motor skills for the ideal alignment. There are very clinical tests you can do, but in the final product, you have to rely on your own Force sense. Having someone like Moosie tune up an otherwise good saber could upgrade the performance significantly.”

Across the salle, Kenobi and Rence moved back and forth, Rence now quite comfortable with the offensive and they had moved up to three-quarter speed. The blades danced back and forth, both combatants more clumsy than usual, still a bit unnerved every time the sabers hit, ringing like a bell.

Si pulled his own saber off his belt and held it up to Quinlan, pointing out an unfamiliar dial. “Moosie added an adjustable post-crystal disruptor to my saber. Worked for stealth, but also so practice sessions could be quieter. A short practice session is fine, but eight hours of perfectly harmonized clanging can grate on the nerves. Cuts the noise while keeping the stones harmonized.”

“That is so neat.” Quinlan puzzled over the unusual modification.

Kressa frowned. “Why would you need a stealth mode? What else makes them clang like that?”

Kressa, Quin and Bes stared at Si. Yoda kicked him in the knee.

Si looked as if he had perhaps said too much. “Occasionally a bolt from a high-end blaster will be uniform enough and hit just right, but harmonized saber blades are the most likely reason.”

Quinlan and Kressa shared a look.

“I suppose Rogue Jedi might still use harmonized blades,” Kressa ventured.

“One has to be prepared for everything.” Si’s tone indicated he wasn’t going to say more.

Bes shrugged. “He _was_ the Battlemaster.”

Yoda rolled his eyes.

“So, if I wanted to make a saber like that, where would I start?”

“Master Noughten’s workshop?” Bes suggested.

“You should probably consult Master Igneous concurrently,” Si advised. “Finding the right stones can sometimes be very time consuming, and there are design elements that won’t be finalized until you have the stones selected. But you can also use that time for other design decisions, customizing it to yourself and your style.”

“Master Dedrin used to run a workshop in Kanu Resonance and Harmonics after Moosie retired because the techniques could be hard to grasp.” Bes frowned. “I don’t know how Master Igneous addresses it, but like I told you, it’s more a matter of degree than an absolute. Even if you don’t get a blade that is as balanced as those, you can still get a much better blade with the simpler tests and refinements.”

“It’s not the type of saber to build in a few days,” Si cautioned. “If you have the chance, take the time to make the best blade for you that you can and don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

“Do you think it’s something everyone should do?” Kressa asked.

“No,” Si shook his head. “Just because a multi-crystal blade is more powerful doesn’t always mean it’s a better choice. For Vos,”

Quinlan started, not realizing Si had remembered his name.

“With his base of Djem So, strong upper body, and aggressive attack style, a multi-crystal blade would enhance his skills and technique, after a considerable learning curve as you’ve seen with Kenobi. For you, Carlin, with your base in Niman, a tri-crystal blade would be a hindrance. Your movements are lighter and faster, relying on speed and deftness more than power. However, you might benefit from a tune up on the saber you have, or by choosing an exceptionally pure single stone. Alternately, there are some more atypical crystal configurations that give the benefits of a traditional tri- or quad-crystal blade, including stability and longevity, without increasing the power and gyroscopic force. Nori has a ‘hen and chicks’ design where there is a large main stone and the other crystals are smaller, or you might try something like the unfortunately named _limp-wrist hexa-plex_.”

“The what?” Kressa looked as if she thought Si was pulling her leg.

“It’s another obscure Kanu design, originally created for Jedi with a dominant hand injury who could no longer rely on a two-handed grip but did not want to limit themselves to Makashi. Instead of three stones as is typical, it has two groups of three small stones set in the same hilt. It actually creates two narrow beams with balanced spins, so it’s useful for those with a weak hand or poor wrist strength. Perfectly fine against blaster bolts, and good for Jedi wherein deftness is more important than brute strength as in Makashi and some forms of Niman. More popular among humanoid females, or lighter built knights in general. The size of the stones limited the duration a bit, so when the design became popular, Moosie developed a convertible version with a large seventh stone, so one could convert from single to multi-crystal, though that increased the hilt diameter a bit.”

“Wow,” Quinlan gulped. Neither of them had ever heard of sabers like this before. “Did he write all this stuff down before he retired?”

“Sort of,” Bes shrugged.

Si snickered. “Your friend, Norwal, would probably find them comprehensible, but if you want to study it, start with a secondary source that is more accessible. Dedrin wrote a very nice book about Moosie’s life, contributions and an introduction to his techniques. I’d start there. Diving right into Kanu’s texts will make most people throw in the towel. Even Master Bert described them as _surprisingly inpenetrable_.”

Bes chuckled. “Moosie was very exact. If you could keep him calm and have him show you in person and through the Force, it was much more effective.”

Out on the floor, Kenobi and Rence ended their bout. Cin complimented them both, then took Rence aside to discuss whether she would be willing to train more with the weapon at the clinics. Kenobi walked up to Daelen, checking out of clinic, making sure he wasn’t still scheduled to spar.

“Now _that_ was a good show,” Monti grinned. “Even for beginners.”

Qui-Gon had spent a good portion of the bout trying not to throw up. It was probably due to seeing someone use a double-bladed staff in the flesh, and probably _not_ due to seeing his former padawan fighting said staff, but it still set his nerves on edge much more than the film clips had in the seminar. The incessant clanging certainly hadn’t helped.

“It was interesting to watch,” he frowned as he watched Rence put the lightstaff back in its case. “Why did they use a Kanu saber against a Kanu light staff instead of a field weapon?”

Monti looked at Jinn in surprise. “I thought that _was_ Knight Kenobi’s field weapon. Rumor has it he built a multi-crystal blade with excellent harmonics.”

Qui-Gon stared at his former apprentice as he walked along the perimeter of the room, probably trying to rejoin his friends without getting too close. He was wearing two hilts on his belt. Jinn tried to remember if he had seen two before. “I hadn’t heard.”

“You are correct, Master Monti,” Cin appeared practically out of nowhere. _Damn stealthy troll._ “We had been wondering since First Lighting if he had actually achieved Kanu Harmonics, but this was the first real test.” Cin chuckled, “Oh, the look on his face was priceless. He didn’t know about the clang.”

Monti laughed and even Qui-Gon grinned. Both Kenobi and Rence’s reactions had been hilarious.

“How many knights and masters bother to attempt it?” Qui-Gon asked. “I know Obi-Wan was always interested in it as a padawan, but I couldn’t get close to Moosie’s level of precision, even if I had well-harmonized stones. And I knew him in person.”

Cin nodded. “Most don’t. Most field Jedi don’t devote the kind of time necessary; they need a functional weapon before they can return to the field or they have a padawan to train. Those who do tend to be true weapons hobbyists, work under Noughten or Igneous, or are primarily stationed at the Temple and have the time. It’s harder with Moosie gone, he could fine-tune and troubleshoot an otherwise good weapon into a great one. Now, well, Noughten’s padawan is showing promise. Like Moosie, he has an excellent feel for the stones, Knight Godit is very helpful in running Kanu assays, and Kenobi shows that it can be done by field knights and its indeed worth the effort to build a saber, even if you already have one.”

“Did he design it himself or use a template?” Monti asked.

“He designed it, but he pored over many different designs to get exactly what he wanted.” Cin held out a hand to shake Monti’s. “And thank you so much for bringing the staff. I talked to Rence and she said she would be happy to demonstrate it for your classes.” He looked at Qui-Gon speculatively. “Kenobi is a field knight, so his availability is limited, but perhaps Master Jinn would be willing to assist on the saber end?”

“Um,” Qui-Gon might bluster through a conversation, but he knew in his bones he was not ready for live demonstrations.

“If you’re feeling up to it next term, I would very much appreciate it.” Monti looked very excited at the idea of bringing back live demonstrations to his otherwise dry lectures.

Qui-Gon gave Cin a suspicious look. He had the distinct impression this would be a new _therapy goal_ at his next rehab meeting.

“I don’t know if I will be fit enough by then, Master Monti,” he replied honestly. “But I can certainly try.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Monti beamed. “Of course we will likely want to speak with you later. Cin and I are working on developing new course material.” This was surprisingly less distasteful sounding than Qui-Gon would have thought a few days ago.

“Let’s see if I survive another _debate_ with Master Silvanus first,” Qui-Gon joked.

“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll whip you into shape, Young Man.”

Qui-Gon glared at Cin and Monti. “We?”

Cin nodded at something behind him and he turned to see Si was following their conversation with interest.

He turned back. “Force, he’s not done yet, is he?”

Cin snorted. “No.”

Jinn looked across the floor and saw Marcus laughing with Urdlea as they cooled down and remembered last night’s conversation at Slo Min’s. “Was Master Silvanus serious when he mentioned training to take down Dark Jedi?”

Cin looked surprised a moment, but quickly grew somber. “One of the last major projects he spearheaded before he retired was training Jedi to take down Xanatos. He didn’t want you to have to do it yourself.” Cin shrugged. “The trackers weren’t able to pin him down before your final confrontation, but they were working on it. And you know Master Si, always prepared. Laelen thought it was too risky, flirting with the Dark Side, but Si didn’t like us being totally unprepared for something that did happen, albeit rarely. So when he was Battlemaster, we always had the training going on at a low level. Increased as needed, but never stopped.” He sighed. “We still did behind Laelen’s back. I can say that now that he’s dead.”

Jinn chuckled. “So Laelen wasn’t the Wraith? Rumor had it that was the real reason he was made Battlemaster.”

Cin cut his eyes to Monti and they both burst out laughing.

“Oh, Sith in hell, _no_!” Monti laughed harder.

Cin was actually wiping away tears. “Um, no. Laelen was too young to have been, but, um, while he was quite talented and a good teacher, Laelen was made Battlemaster because he had a good personality for the press and was an utter kiss ass to the Council.” Cin sobered. “Again, he’s dead now.”

Monti shook his head. “Oh my, are you young people _still_ debating that?” He patted Qui-Gon on the shoulder, then left to go speak with Si, still giggling.

Cin shook his head. “Sorry, just . . . Needless to say I do know about that and . . . Laelen did _not_ have the grit and psyche for that. I’m sure you know the reality is not like the fiction, but that rumor is just _so_ wrong.” He straightened up a bit. “The real person who went by that codename did _not_ like being recognized for it and had quite an excellent career otherwise.”

Across the stands, Monti burst out laughing again, Si joining in with his raspy cackle.

“ _Laelen_?” Si choked out in disbelief. “He didn’t even take his _caff_ dark, much less his opponents.” The two old men laughed together, eyes bright.

Jinn snorted. It had been far-fetched but seemed to explain so much.

Kenobi had _casually_ finished his loop around the main salle to rejoin Vos and Carlin. He did not join them in the stands, but stopped, nodded, then bowed to the masters. Si felt Yoda stiffen at the distance.

“Very nice saber you have,” Yoda ventured. “Sings well it does with good partner.”

Obi-Wan nodded but did not come closer. “Thank you, Grandmaster.” It was perfectly polite and respectful but lacked the warmth and familiarity they had built.

Si glanced between them, clearly sensing Yoda’s hurt, despite the fact that the tiny master shielded it well. Kressa watched quietly, noting the distance.

“All done?” Quinlan asked.

“Yes, all checked out.”

“Great!” Quinlan hopped up and offered a hand to Kressa. “Let’s hit the sonics and then get some lunch.” He turned to Obi-Wan. “If it’s okay with you, I want to pick your brain about how you made your lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan seemed mildly surprised. “Sure.”

“It was very nice speaking with you, Masters.” Kressa bowed and followed Quin down to the bottom of the stands. For a moment, Obi-Wan gave Yoda an almost timid look, then bowed again and followed the other two knights out the doors. Si watched him go, noting how the young man ducked his head as he turned away, running his fingers over his temple as though he had a headache.

Yoda sighed deeply, ears pointing down. Bes patted his shoulder in comfort.

Si looked back down at his former master, one eyebrow raised. “Talk. To. Him. He needs guidance. Clearly.”

“Grown man he is now. Boundaries there are now.”

“Unhealthy boundaries. It’s clear he still respects you very much.”

Yoda made a grumbling sound. It had not felt respectful to _him_. “Keep away he does. If want distance he does, force him closer I should not.”

“I don’t think he _wants_ distance, Master, even if he is choosing it.”

Yoda gave Si a suspicious glare.

Si gave him a patient look. “He _is_ a young knight, and in case you forgot, you _are_ the Grandmaster. You’re not just reacting to him; he’s reacting to you too.”

“Hmph,” Yoda resettled on the bench. “Explain you will, please.”

“When he arrived, you were hiding under the stands, spying on him.”

“Yes. Speak with me he has not been doing.”

“I know. I also know he was your half-padawan and you still share a bond. Do you honestly think he didn’t know you were there?”

Yoda frowned. “Shield myself I did. Notice he usually does not.”

“He probably didn’t notice before you became Breggle partners or if he did, he didn’t think you were evaluating him specifically. Now he’s more attuned and hypervigilant. He would have sensed you were nearby as soon as he entered the salle.”

“Hmm.”

“And he still stayed.”

Yoda gave Si another piercing look.

“Even when Master Jinn arrived, he still stayed.”

“Stay he did. _Visit_ with me he did not.”

Si clasped his hands in his lap and gave his former master another patient look. “He stayed because it is his duty, to the Order and to you, to do his best and hone his skills, even if he has to share a room with his former master. Speaking to you may be distressful but failing in his duty to you is unthinkable.”

“What done I have? Why distress him do I?”

“You’ve probably done nothing,” Si reassured him. “It’s not your fault you’re the Grandmaster. But I think I can say from experience that the idea of disappointing you is more painful than avoiding you.”

Yoda frowned, thinking it over. “Because Grandmaster I am?”

“Yes.” Si rubbed his back, soothingly. “And because you are very dear to him. His master is lost to him, his grandmaster is not close with him, he knows no lineage siblings, he has no padawan. You represent a Jedi ideal as Grandmaster, but you are also a role model he greatly respects. You do recall how much I dreaded disappointing you when _I_ was a young knight.”

Yoda clutched suddenly at Si’s arm, as if reassuring himself the man was still there. “Stumble alone in dark, I do not want for him.”

“I agree, you should not let it continue. Talk to him. He is clearly at an impasse. He feels he cannot go to you for counsel and has not made progress with his therapist. There is no one else he is close to. If you want to be closer, you must make him understand his current difficulties are not failure in your eyes.”

Yoda looked up at his former padawan, eyes wide. “Feel this way you did when young you were?”

“When times were good, when I felt I lived up to your teachings and example, no. When times were bad, when I felt I had not lived up to expectations, or your example, when I struggled with the Code, when I felt I could not perform my duties, yes, I did.”

Yoda grew quiet, thoughtful.

“When padawan you were, hide your difficulties you did not.”

“A padawan is supposed to seek counsel from their master. A knight is supposed to figure it out on their own.” Si paused, trying to explain to someone who had not been young in centuries. “We are taught not to be ruled by our emotions. It is easy for young knights to mistakenly believe that having attained a higher mental state and passing their trials, that future struggles to maintain serenity are personal failures to be ashamed of. Surely you’ve seen that in the Jedi you counsel.”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded. “Seen this I have.”

“They seek your advice because they feel they cannot go to their masters. You are essentially his master. He is too enmeshed with you emotionally to separate seeking your help and failing you personally.”

Yoda put one clawed hand on Si’s arm. “Personal struggles you had failures were not. Fail self you did not. Fail _me_ you did not.”

“I know that,” Si reassured him. “ _Now_. I’m much older. More experienced. I’ve had padawans. He’s not there yet. And as open as you are to him, he’s still wary of taking up too much of your time and efforts.”

“Do you have any idea what the problem is?” Bes asked. Kressa hadn’t seemed to know, and Bes hadn’t felt any Darkness, but there were faint signs of underlying stress. Something was weighing the knight down.

“Spoke to Vygor I have. Tell me some he can, not all.” Yoda sighed. “Failure it is not, but fears judgement he does, even from Vygor.”

Si looked concerned, but not surprised. “Talk to him, Master. Remind him he can trust you, even when he feels he cannot trust himself.”

Yoda peered up at Si. “Tells you this Force does?”

Si snorted. “My _brain_ tells me that.” He rubbed Yoda’s back soothingly. “The Force happens to agree.”

Yoda took a deep breath, thinking it over. “Talk to him I will. Look well he does not in Force.”

“He really doesn’t,” Bes agreed.

“Thank you both for talk.” Yoda smacked Si’s knee. “Still smartass you are.”

“You knew that when we made our padawan vows, Master.” Si offered an arm to assist Yoda off the bench. “Are you observing the second session?”

Yoda nodded. “In lounge I will be. Talk more we will later.”

“Of course, Master.” Si gave him a reassuring look until he had left, then turned back to the floor, rolling his eyes.

Bes made a questioning sound.

Si shook his head. “Master is too close to the problem.”

“Oh?” Bes looked at him in surprise. “You know what’s going on with Knight Kenobi?”

Si nodded. “I’ve seen it before.” He stretched, joints cracking. “And Master has confided in me some of what his therapist revealed.”

“Is he depressed?” Bes wondered.

“He might be, but that’s not the primary problem. He’s having a separate emotional difficulty and is too embarrassed to talk about it.”

“Even with Master Yoda?”

“Even with his therapist.”

“Oh, dear.” It was little wonder Kressa was concerned, though Quinlan seemed oblivious and Bes had not seen any flaw in the salle. He glanced quickly at Master Jinn, who had finally been coaxed into a very slow spar with Jerrold. “Problems with his former master?”

“No,” Si lowered his voice. “He’s in love. You can see it in his Force presence, though he hides it well.”

Bes blinked. “Is _that_ all? Why all the fuss then?”

“Jinn didn’t do right by him in that regard, and he is having trouble handling it himself. Attachment, lust, appropriate behavior, what to do when a love interest does not seem to reciprocate.”

“Drink a few shots and don’t use the Force to process the alcohol, then let your heart reset?” Bes suggested.

Si snorted. “That works for infatuation and lust. Love is a bit harder, and he’s been burned before.”

“He’s really that worried about disappointing Yoda?”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Si asked. “If you had been betrayed by your master and Yoda was the person who picked you back up and believed in you?”

Bes frowned. “Maybe. But if Master Yoda was already the person who saw me at my lowest point, I might be more likely to confide in him.”

“There are other issues at play,” Si conceded. “And I know he was very determined to _never_ disappoint Master Yoda again when he was younger.” He shook his head. “The Council kept him on probation too long, but Jinn never protested it. Seemed to prefer it according to Master. Discipline is one thing, but it may have given him a complex. I suspect he fears being shut out again, and he has already been rejected by Jinn.”

Bes looked out over the salle at the master in question. “I know Master Jinn did many things I have not agreed with, but he always seemed to trust and defend his padawans.”

“Not Kenobi,” Si grumbled. “Overcompensated, went too far in the other direction. Master should never have let Jinn have that boy back. Should have trained Kenobi himself.”

“Because he’s so talented?” Bes asked.

“Because he still thinks he’s not,” Si replied. “And Jinn still believes it. You heard him analyze his padawan last night. Did you think his assessment was balanced or rational?”

“No,” Bes frowned. “It wasn’t. He seemed to be less strident as the evening went on, but he was very critical of Obi-Wan, while arguing against his own flaws.”

Si stared at Jinn through his dark spectacles. “Exactly. I think he’s slowly coming around to a more realistic view, but his interactions with Obi-Wan have been colored by his denials and fears. Kenobi has grown much under Yoda’s tutelage, but with an outright rejection like that, it is little wonder he’d fear the same from Master if he fails to measure up.”

Bes shot a glare at Jinn (who was too pre-occupied with not falling on his face to notice), then sighed, knowing far too well the anxiety of unreasonable, self-imposed standards. “I hope Master Yoda can get him straightened out.”

“Me too,” Si crossed his arms. “It will be much better for all involved if I don’t have to stick my giant nose into their personal mess.”

Bes giggled. “Your nose isn’t that big.”

“Yes, it is,” Si grumbled. “I was once refused an audition with the Royal Dance Company of Alderaan because they felt my nose would create an _unpleasant silhouette_.” He rolled his eyes. “I was only trying to get into a class. That’s how I ended up with Jambo and Dean, despite little to no theater background and no acting experience. I was already _on_ Alderaan.” He smirked a moment. “Worked out for the best. Much better dating opportunities.”

Bes grinned. It was good to see Si out and about and happy. Confident.

“Master Silvanus? Master, um, Bes?”

Both men turned to see Knight Daelen had approached and was looking at them nervously.

“Yes?”

“Um, Master Drallig asked me to come over and ask if the two of you would be willing to consult. There are some masters trying new techniques and,” she leaned close, whispering conspiratorially. “They’re really terrible.”

Si looked up to assess the group. “Yes, they are.”

Bes winced as a practice ball went veering off in an unexpected direction. “Oh, dear.” He looked at Si. “I’m game if you are.”

Si raised an eyebrow at another ridiculously bad move. Clearly everyone was out of practice at trying something new. “Let’s go save them from themselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We had some new characters introduced (because clearly we needed more of those), and with so many different interactions, I'm sure there will be some speculation. Different plots are moving, different characters are growing, a lot is happening. Your thoughts are welcome. :D


	21. Part XXI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Tahl get some private time and discuss the current situation, there are sweet dreams, sour dreams and strange dreams, Master Yoda reminisces and offers his support, and Si gets Bes out of his comfort zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from _Torn_ as recorded by Natalie Imbruglia.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VV1XWJN3nJo
> 
> Sorry for the false alarm on the new chapter last week. I was updating and accidentally posted. Argh. Hopefully I got the typos out this time. Somehow this ended up as the sex chapter. So many people having sex. I'm not sure how this happened.
> 
> Also, my employer is trying to reopen (they have spent the week flailing ineffectually, but I expect I will spend the next week playing 'Managing Expectations Whack-a-Mole' in addition to work, so updates are probably going to slow down moving forward. Thank you for keeping up with me on this journey. I'm doing my best to get us to the finish line. 
> 
> **WARNING** : Consensual sex, not-exactly dubious consent (see endnotes if you have a concern), and old people sex.

_I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel,_

_I'm cold and I am shamed_

_Lying naked on the floor._

_Illusion never changed into something real,_

_I'm wide awake and I can see_

_The perfect sky is torn_.

\--Scott Cutler, Anne Preven, Phil Thornalley, “Torn”

Master Tahl sighed as she heard her household droid steeping the tea. She could sense great inner turmoil, emotional exhaustion, internal strife. Master Yoda had been right; Qui-Gon was coming over and he was in a mood.

She settled herself on the couch, unlocked the door and had the droid leave the tea tray on the caff table before dismissing it for the night. Qui-Gon rumbled faintly in the Force behind the door before he stepped inside, actively trying to release his feelings.

“Rough class?” She rested her hand on the teapot, silently offering a familiar comfort.

“Yes, and yes, please.” He half-collapsed on the couch beside her. “Very rough.”

“Jerrold mentioned you had been critiqued by Master Silvanus the first night.”

“Oh, Force yes. And tonight too.”

She could hear him move, raising his arms and running his hands over his hair.

“I swear, they kept him in deep freeze for all these years and just thawed him out for class.”

Tahl chuckled quietly. “Gi-Ho said he has aged well, despite the hands.” She finished preparing his tea just the way he liked it, then put it down in front of him before pouring out her own. “You seem very unsettled.”

“I’m offended. It’s easy for Silvanus and Monti to sit behind their desks and books and criticize, but they’ve never had to face a Sith before.”

Tahl bit back a sigh. Marcus had warned her about this, and she refrained from reminding him that the only other living Jedi to do so was in fact Obi-Wan. “Are they wrong?”

“They had some good points,” Qui-Gon conceded. “So did Cin.”

“Are you perhaps taking this personally because of who it’s coming from, rather than what they have to say?”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “Monti hasn’t been in the field in twenty years and even then, that was libraries and archeological digs. And Silvanus,” he made a disgusted noise. “He’s always been a . . . “

“A what?” Tahl asked, a note of warning in her voice.

“A powderpuff,” Qui-Gon mumbled.

“A powderpuff?”

“You know, all style, not backed by substance and skill.”

“Because he’s an artist?”

“I suppose as a Temple-based Jedi he had more freedom to indulge his hobbies, but he wasn’t committed, to the Order or the Force.”

“Is that your opinion or your master’s?” Tahl asked.

Jinn grumbled.

“Or do you choose to believe Master Silvanus is shallow in his commitment to the Force because he so often butted heads with you?”

“Master Dooku and I were in agreement in regards to Master Silvanus.”

“Why?” Tahl’s expression revealed she clearly did _not_ agree. “And if I recall correctly, even Master Dooku warned you that Master Silvanus was not to be trifled with in the salle.”

“He . . . associated with half-drunk artists, spent too much time dancing and slept around. A lot.”

Tahl rolled her blind eyes. Qui-Gon had been surprisingly prissy as a teenager. “You hang around with slaves, spend too much time _meditating_ in the gardens, and hit on your own former apprentice.”

“Marcus told you?”

“Yoda told me,” she sighed. “And Marcus. And Urdlea.” She sipped her tea. “The only people who didn’t tell me were you and Obi-Wan.”

“Are you angry?”

She was his primary partner, after all.

“I’m disappointed that you would care so little for his feelings.” She shrugged. “I feel better that I wasn’t the only one to not recognize his Force presence.”

“He does feel very different.”

“Yoda helped him blossom. To reach his full potential. You honed his skills, but you could be very strict, stifling. You used to marvel at the ways Xan and Feemor saw and experienced the Force differently from you. With Obi-Wan, you dismissed his differences as flaws and deficiencies.” She reached for his hand, knowing she was being harsh. “You treated him the way Master Dooku treated you. Rigidly.”

“Master did have very set ideas of what was proper and correct.”

“He did.” She squeezed his hand. “And you spent most of your knighthood rebelling against them. But with Master Silvanus I always assumed you didn’t take him seriously because your master was dismissive of him.”

“Master felt he didn’t live up to his potential as Yoda’s padawan.”

“Or he told himself that to make himself feel superior,” Tahl suggested. “Even I noticed he was jealous of Master Si’s less contentious relationship with Yoda.”

“He felt Master Silvanus was lazy and easily distracted from his study of the Force.”

“And what do _you_ think? Not Yan, _you_.”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I didn’t think he was worth considering, to be honest. Yes, he was the Battlemaster. Yes, he was very good in the salle. Yes, he could teach.”

“And you think that those who can’t do teach?” she asked.

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, knowing his opinion was unpopular. “It’s an idiom for a reason.”

Tahl sipped her tea and resisted the urge to smack him. “You do know that Master Silvanus was granted the title of Jedi Master before he was appointed Battlemaster, yes? It wasn’t just a bureaucratic promotion. He trained a padawan, and was recognized for his work in Teaching, the Dip Corp, and for certain classified missions.”

“Classified missions?”

Tahl leaned back against the couch. “I work in Archives. I can recognize some of the codes. He used to do short, covert missions for the Council back when he was a young buck. Probably still classified because he isn’t dead yet.”

“Cin said he trained Jedi to take down Xan in the event the network could pin down his location.”

She turned to face him, surprised. “I know. They interviewed me to get insights into Xan.”

Qui-Gon stared at her. “You never told me that.”

“It was classified. And you had isolated yourself. Telling you would have only caused you pain.” She sipped more tea, feeling the warmth. “Doesn’t matter now, I guess. Xan is dead, and not at the hands of the Jedi. The mission was scuttled.”

“Master always thought Master Silvanus should have done more with his talents,” Qui-Gon mused. Dooku had admitted his older brother did in fact have them.

“Like what, leave the Order to be the Count of Serrano?” Tahl snorted. “He was Battlemaster for more than forty years, he’s been a Jedi Master longer than you’ve been alive. He’s taught generations of students, he developed innovative curriculums, worked with different species, abilities, disabilities, and injuries to ensure not just field Jedi, but Temple-bound Jedi could defend themselves and perform to the best of their abilities, and he put plans in place for when things went wrong. I know you preferred Laelen, who was much more hands off and didn’t interfere with your teaching methods, but Master Si never forgot that the Dark Side was a part of the Force, and it could be anywhere. In the Temple. In our hearts. And he certainly knows what it’s like to be an active Jedi, even with disabilities.” Tahl couldn’t see Qui-Gon’s raised eyebrows, but she could hear it in his tone.

“I thought he stopped going into the field because of his hands. He was what, seventy-something?”

Tahl rolled her eyes. “He refused to confront Xan himself because of his hands. That’s why he was training other Jedi to do it instead. His hands started to shake when he was in his fifties, but he could still function independently in the field. By his eighties it was harder to control. And that wasn’t what I meant. He used to go into the field after his larynx was fractured. That’s why his missions were short runs. It’s hard to keep well-conditioned when you can’t swallow.”

“When was this?” Qui-Gon didn’t pay all that much attention to Master Silvanus, it actually felt rude to as his hands got worse, but he was fairly sure he had seen the man eat.

“Long time ago,” Tahl emptied her cup. “He doesn’t talk like that because it sounds intimidating. He had a bad injury when he was young. He still has to eat very slowly. That’s part of why Yoda still fusses over him.”

_And probably part of why Dooku had been jealous._

“He really thought he knew how to take out Xan?”

Tahl leaned against Qui-Gon, offering comfort. “Yes. You weren’t the only one to train him. Xan was in his advanced classes. He was familiar with his strengths and weaknesses.”

“Xan thought he was a weak old man.”

“Exactly.” Tahl sat up to put her cup on the table. “He wasn’t the only Dark Jedi who made that mistake, but I can’t say more.”

“He really took on Dark Jedi? By himself?”

“I know the codes, so yeah, he was sent out and not as a tracker. Not every trip was a _frou-frou_ dance class. Yoda still gets nightmares about sending him out.” She stretched. It was getting late. “Now he has bad dreams about sending him out against Sith. He always came home, but Yoda knew every time he might not.”

Yoda’s fears for him former apprentice certainly could have colored his relationship with his next apprentice. Qui-Gon could relate. “He really would have gone after Xan if his hands were steady?”

“He really would have, but he knew his limits. I saw some of the training. Never saw him fight like that, much more aggressive when he played the target, and even with his hands the students still couldn’t take him down.” She rubbed his arm. “I know you think you are rare because you tread closer to the Gray Line and you _feel_ so much more than others think wise, but I think you have more in common with Master Silvanus than you believe. And I think he can really help you and Cin. He’s faced the Dark. It wasn’t personal like you and Xan, but he’s faced it.”

“So you think Cin didn’t just call him in to put me in my place?”

Tahl burst out laughing. “No,” she gasped. “I think that’s exactly why Cin brought him in. His experience with Dark Force users is just an enormous bonus.”

Qui-Gon sniffed, but even he had to admit it was a brilliant tactical move.

“Have you ever looked at his paintings, Qui-Gon?” Tahl asked after the giggles had subsided.

“Not really. I mean I know the one over the salle.”

“He used to paint the Force as he saw it.” Tahl sighed, “I don’t miss much about art and being blind, but I miss seeing his work. The Force is what it is, but we don’t all sense it the same way. Master and I would have great discussions about his work.”

“Maybe I should have a look.”

She patted his leg. “You should. His art wasn’t always a frivolous hobby. Sometimes it _was_ a study of the Force.”

Qui-Gon leaned closer, running a hand through her hair. “Do you think he was stronger in the Force than Master Dooku?” He had heard rumors of this throughout his apprenticeship but hadn’t believed them. Yan Dooku was nothing if not demonstrative of his powers.

“Hell, yes,” Tahl snorted. “Dooku is very powerful, but I live next door to Yoda. I get all the dirt.”

“Yoda _said_ that?” Qui-Gon knew the tiny master did not publicly discuss the relative strengths of his former students. It was too charged a topic.

“Get an ale in him, he _still_ says that.”

“Rumor has it that he could levitate liquids. Not just making waves or splashing, but that he could actually lift spheres of liquid.”

Tahl nodded against his shoulder. “Yoda said his telekinesis is amazing. I wouldn’t be surprised. When he was young, he would get bored and focus on a Force skill until he could do it. Just like with his dancing or his painting, he wanted to learn more. He didn’t study the same way Dooku did, but he was always learning. And he studied saberwork using the Tannsi method. For him, dance was about learning form, developing balance, gaining rapport with a partner.” She snorted. “Just because Yan was too uptight to wear a leotard didn’t mean Master Si was a powder puff.”

“He’s still razor-sharp,” Qui-Gon winced. “Remembered all of our names and what forms we used. He and Master Bes were demonstrating Force pushes.” He snorted. “Knocked Freelan on her ass.”

“She put saberwork on the backburner after she was elevated to master. She _needs_ to be knocked on her ass.”

“Bes looked so old. I didn’t recognize him at first.”

“He lost his legs in a starship crash. He’s lucky he’s still alive, much less his cheerful self.”

“Well, he seems to have gotten over his crush on Master Silvanus. They actually worked well together.”

Tahl laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Qui-Gon, he didn’t _get over it_. They’re dating.”

“Really?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Yes.” Tahl kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear. “I. Get. All. The. Dirt.”

“Gossip,” he kissed her lips lightly.

“Stubborn jackass,” she kissed back deeper.

“Don’t say _jackass_.” Qui-Gon leaned back as she crawled into his lap. “I don’t want to think about old Master Silvanus anymore.”

Tahl laughed against his lips. “Fair enough. We can talk about it more in the morning.”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master Tahl.” He expected her to reply with a sarcastic comeback, but she slipped her hand down his pants, leaving him gasping.

“Shall we retire to the bedroom, Master Jinn?”

“Absolutely.” He stood up with a grin and followed her, hoping he still had enough stamina left to satisfy his lover.

He flicked on the lights as soon as they entered the bedroom, Tahl not minding his visual appreciation of her physique, despite her blindness, and long past being self-conscious about her body. Qui-Gon was a bit surprised she undressed him before disrobing herself, but he was already tired and worn out by the seminar and quite willing to let Tahl take charge. When they were both naked, Tahl pulled him into a deep kiss, then guided him onto the bed, laying him on his back. She then straddled him, bending down to continue the long, slow, deep kisses they had so enjoyed during his long convalescence, but also began stroking him again, wanting to slowly kindle his passion.

Normally, Qui-Gon would have been a much more active participant, even after his injury, but today he just felt beaten down and exhausted. Cin hadn’t been hostile; he had in fact been encouraging on several occasions for all that Qui-Gon loathed being someone who needed encouragement. Apparently surviving a fight with a Sith did not merit the automatic assumption that he was a warrior of great skill. Of course, Cin seemed intent on completely changing the long-held standards, so maybe he just wasn’t making any assumptions. Regardless, the harsh appraisal by Master Si, the radical changes in the clinic, and seeing his former apprentice (on screen and in person) had left him feeling more lost than he’d like to admit. And he was starting to suspect Master Si’s assessment wasn’t in fact wrong. Unwilling to voice his need for care, he ceded control to Tahl without a fuss, letting his lover decide what they would do and hoping his body would agree. Tahl seemed quite agreeable to his unaccustomed passivity, content to keep kissing, slowly letting his arousal grow. Qui-Gon began to moan softly at her firm strokes, and when she added lubricant to the mix with a sly grin, he moaned louder, wanting her to hear and share in his pleasure.

When he started to pant, Tahl rolled off him to retrieve something from her bedside table. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of cool air on his erect penis, enjoying the feel of Tahl’s presence in the Force, feeling the Living Force running through his body, making him feel truly alive. He felt Tahl roll back and when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see her grasping two vibrator toys, one in each hand.

“You want to masturbate?” he asked, confused.

Tahl rolled her blind eyes. “I want _us_ to masturbate. Together. Helping each other along. It’s obvious you need to get off and equally obvious you are too exhausted for intercourse. So,” she shrugged one shoulder. “One for you, one for me. The question is do you want it inside, or do you want me to stimulate you from the outside?” She flicked each one on and off, letting him hear and see the vibrations. They didn’t usually play with toys together but the idea of getting off without having to work so hard for it had undeniable appeal.

“I’ll even let you pick,” she smirked.

“Alright,” he looked them over. “The dildo. Inside. With vibration. Assuming you’re still willing to, hmm, keep tuning my lightsaber.”

“You are such a dork,” she giggled. “Good choice. Roll over so I can put it in.” She stroked his buttocks several times in a soothing fashion before she lubed up her fingers to loosen him up. “I’m planning on using the vibrator outside. If you can manage it, I’d very much enjoy your fingers inside.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he gasped as she stretched him, ensuring he was relaxed and wouldn’t be hurt. Sometimes he liked it a little rough, but not much since his injury.

“How do you want it?” she asked as she began to tease him with the lubricated toy, just pressing lightly, not turning it on. “Steady? Increasing? Pre-programmed?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I didn’t realize your toy collection was so fancy.”

She began to press it in slowly, letting him decide when to stop. “My other lovers like them more than you do. I always assumed your strength in the Living Force meant you preferred the joys of the flesh over electric ecstasy.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “I’ve enjoyed them before. Surprise me. Give me some variation, something you like.”

“Pre-programmed it is.” She turned it on very low, then slowly increased the speed. “Is it comfortable?”

“Ooh,” Qui-Gon shuddered pleasantly. “A little deeper.” It had been a long time. The last time he’d used toys regularly had been with Xan, who was never quite satisfied if there was hole unfilled. “Do you use these with Bant?”

Tahl snorted. “I haven’t been with Bant in years, not since she discovered the joys of lovers with gills, but yes, we both made use of toys to overcome anatomical differences. Not that I didn’t before.”

“Really?” he asked as Tahl fiddled with a controller of some kind. She had turned off the dildo when he confirmed it was in a good position, and now she was selecting the program. Qui-Gon sighed, squirming against the unfamiliar toy and stroking himself lightly. Even still, it really did feel good.

“Yes, really. Why the hell not?” The toy went on and off a few times, as if in a test pattern. Interestingly, the vibrator still on the bed did the same.

“You’re synchronizing them?”

“Good to see you’re paying attention. Yes.”

Both toys flared to life, and Qui-Gon grunted as the dildo buzzed powerfully against his prostate for several seconds. “Force, that’s intense!” He moved his hips, gasping as the smaller vibrator jumped around on the bedsheets.

“Too much?” Tahl asked after they stopped abruptly, leaving Qui-Gon panting, his cock leaking.

“No,” he tried to sound confident, not winded. “Just . . . can we work up to that?”

Tahl grinned. “Yes. I was just setting parameters. I don’t want to overwhelm you.” She finished programming the controller, which beeped to confirm, then rolled back over to him, bringing the lubricant with her. Smiling, she took his hand and applied the gel to both of them, then sidled up against him, kissing him as she began to lightly stroke him again.

Qui-Gon ran a hand up her thigh, sliding between her legs, teasing at her vagina and clitoris. They had been kissing for several minutes and his fingers had just begun to slip inside her when the vibrators began to slowly work their magic.

“Ooh,” Qui-Gon clenched against the dildo, rocking his hips gently. Tahl pulled away from the kiss and snuggled against him, then ran her toy up and down her body, over her chest, her belly, her thighs, before she started to center in on her genitals. She had stopped fondling her lover for the moment (and frankly Qui-Gon was quite well aroused), but she clutched at his wrist, directing his fingers deeper, before she began running the toy along her outer lips, sighing. Qui-Gon moved his fingers slowly, watching her intently.

“Ahh,” Tahl pressed down harder on him. “Good Jedi.”

Qui-Gon snorted and leaned in to kiss her temple. “It _is_ good.” The pair of vibrators began to buzz faster. “Oh!” Qui-Gon let his hips move in their own rhythm. The movement felt good, holding still felt good, every position along the way felt good. They should have done this sooner.

Tahl began sliding the toy over her clitoris, humming in pleasure. Qui-Gon slipped an arm behind her back, pulling her up against his chest, feeling her hips moving, her breath quickening as her passion began to rise. The toys began to pulse with brief bursts of intense vibration. Qui-Gon moaned loudly at the unexpected change, while Tahl pressed her vibrator against herself, gasping.

“Oh, that’s,” Qui-Gon felt his ability to speak intelligently deteriorating. “Oh, _Tahl_ ,” he felt himself clench down again as the toys pulsed harder and Tahl gasped loudly, squirming.

Tahl reached out with her free hand and called something to it with the Force. Qui-Gon could not make out what it was, but he was rather distracted.

The toys began to pulse again in short and long bursts. Tahl moaned and Qui-Gon’s fingers felt more slippery inside her, her own fluids mixing with the lubricant. He was panting, groaning as the vibrations peaked, fascinated as Tahl’s presence in the Living Force flared in time with the stimulation.

The toys quieted back down to a slow, gentle hum and Qui-Gon lay back in the sheets, trying to catch his breath. Tahl began fussing with the odd, strappy thing she had pulled out of the drawer and Qui-Gon realized it was a harness for holding the toy in place hands free. With surprising deftness, Tahl buckled herself in (Qui-Gon suspected a bit of Force was involved) and secured the toy before she turned into him and began fondling his scrotum. Qui-Gon leaned in to kiss her again, grinning against her lips as the toy’s vibration changed again. Tahl threw her leg over his thighs, pulling in close while her hand slid along his penis, the other hand on his neck, keeping his face close, sneaking in kisses between gasps and moans. The intensity kicked up again, but it didn’t pulse this time, instead staying on the high setting for longer and longer stretches, the intervals between becoming a short reprieve. Qui-Gon pressed himself against her, his penis rubbing against her taut belly, and she wrapped both arms around him, crying out now as the toy’s intensity increased again and stayed at that high level. Tahl was grinding against his fingers, pressing against him, and he could feel her toy buzzing against his hip to match the one up his ass. He could feel his climax approaching, could feel Tahl wasn’t far behind, and he wasn’t sure if the vibrators had gone even higher or if it was just his own excitement. And then he was coming, the brilliance of the Living Force whiting out his vision and he yelled, joining his voice with the roar of the Force.

In his arms, Tahl threw her head back in a silent scream, trembling as she clenched down on him. Qui-Gon opened his eyes to see his seed spilled between them, their bodies glazed in sweat, panting to catch their breath. Tahl waved her hand weakly and the vibrations stopped. Qui-Gon pulled his fingers out of her, while Tahl unbuckled the harness and dropped it off the side of the bed onto a towel to deal with in the morning. She pushed on his shoulder and he rolled over, letting her gently remove the dildo before dropping it also and sighing, enjoying the residual tingles.

“That was,” Qui-Gon took a deep breath. “That was terrific.”

“It was,” Tahl agreed as Qui-Gon began to clean them up. She snorted. “I’m sure half the floor knows how good it was.”

“I wasn’t _that_ loud,” Qui-Gon scoffed.

“Oh, Force,” Tahl rolled her eyes as he finished wiping them down. “You are _always_ loud. If I had known you would be this agreeable to toys, I’d have gotten you a gag.”

He chuckled as he tossed the wipes into the trash. “I’m not that bad.”

“Let’s just say Yoda doesn’t need the Force to know you’ve had an orgasm.”

“You’re spoiling the afterglow with your tasteless jokes.”

Tahl yawned and snuggled closer. “Not joking.”

“It’s a good thing you’re a beautiful liar.”

“Not lying. There are bantha bulls that mate more quietly than you do.”

“Of course they do,” Qui-Gon drifted closer to sleep. “They’re a prey species.”

Both of them slipped into deep, quiet slumber, then fell further into dreams.

Tahl’s dreams were quiet, peaceful and sometimes nonsensical. Bant had come to visit and they sat on the couch drinking tea, before Bant drew a tepid bath and they both got in, still talking and soaking, the smell of the bath oil soothing and relaxing. At some point Bant suggested they go for a swim and they slipped beneath the water to find themselves in a deep body of warm water with no clear path to the surface, as if they were swimming in an enormous, flooded cavern. Tahl didn’t have a rebreather, but didn’t seem to need one, and Bant led her further into the welcoming depths until they reached a sandy bottom. Bant kissed her fondly, then pressed her into the soft sand, positioning them so they could pleasure each other with lips and tongues. They made slow, gentle love in the smoothly flowing water, their dream bond strong, full and warm as it had been when Bant had been a young woman, not yet ready to pull away to prepare for her knighthood, but thoroughly comfortable and secure in her master’s love.

Qui-Gon silently replayed the evening’s experience, committing the sensations, the sounds, the feel of his lover to memory. The tensions that had been plaguing him for days had eased, nagging pains had faded, and his mind felt clear as began to dream.

He was walking through the Temple, hardy and healthy, his chest intact, his breaths coming easy as he nodded at friends and colleagues who looked up at him with respect, not pity. He continued down a bright, sunlit corridor, nodding at Cin, Marcus, Yoda, the Council. The hallways ended in a metal ramp and as he climbed into it, he found himself in a darkened room, the rumble of engines beneath his feet and stars streaking by outside the narrow window.  
  
“Master?”

He turned around to see a shadow on the bunk across the room.

“Go to sleep, Obi-Wan.” He wasn’t going to argue about the boy again.

“Wait!” the shadow moved as if Obi-Wan were reaching for him. “Don’t run ahead!”

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, listening to the warning tone more than the words. He didn’t need a warning this time. Obi-Wan always complained he didn’t pay enough attention to the future. Anakin Skywalker was the Chosen One. This time it was everyone else who was ignoring this opportunity. Ani _was_ the future, and he was here now.

“It’s dangerous.”

Qui-Gon scowled, suddenly angry. His stubborn apprentice had made his opinion of Anakin known, in front of the boy no less, but to refer to a child and former slave as _It_ was beyond the pale. He slapped the wall panel, the lights flaring overhead. “Obi—”

Obi-Wan was talking in his sleep. _Again_. About Force knows what. Fortunately he didn’t seem to do it while field sleeping, and they were reasonably secure here so he couldn’t fault him for it.

“It’s _dangerous!_ ” he said again, arms flailing as if to tell someone to stop.

“What’s dangerous, Obi-Wan?” he asked tiredly. Sometimes, if he talked to the young man, he got through it faster and would shut up for the night.

“The gates. The red gates.”

_Red gates?_

“Not Anakin?” _What the hell was he going on about?_

“Anakin won’t kill _you_.” He rolled over and settled into a different dream. Qui-Gon silently backed away toward his own bunk. At least Obi-Wan hadn’t been using the creepy sleep-talking voice that came out when he was feverish. When nothing else was said, Qui-Gon breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank the Force,” he grumbled as he lay down on his bunk, surprised it was long enough for him to stretch his legs.

“You really don’t listen to a damn thing I say, do you?”

In his dream Qui-Gon wasn’t startled to find himself in his own bed, but it wasn’t Tahl sharing it. He looked over to see Obi-Wan sitting beside him, face half-turned to gaze out at the aircars flying past the window, his bearded chin resting on his hand.

Qui-Gon felt his cock stir between his legs.

“Not really. If you could focus on the moment, it would be more relevant.”

“I speak from what the Force tells me.”

“Maybe you need to focus better.” He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hope for a full erection or for it to go away.

“Maybe you need to open your mind.” He moved suddenly, straddling him like Tahl had and Qui-Gon’s erection sprang fully to life. Obi-Wan was naked, slightly more muscular than he remembered, his padawan buzz cut grown out to frame his face, draping to brush his shoulders. His penis was quiescent, unaroused.

“Were you planning on doing something?” Qui-Gon asked. This was not a scenario that ever played out in their lives.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “It’s _your_ fantasy. Is there something I should be doing? It’s not as if you ever taught me how.”

Qui-Gon took a moment to take this all in. Above him, Obi-Wan was opening his shields like he had during the Breggle game, his presence unfurling and expanding, spreading his Force self in all its splendor.

“If it’s my fantasy, I think you’ll figure it out. Besides, you’re a knight now. Hasn’t Vos or Whats-Her-Name taught you anything yet?”

“That would save you the trouble,” Obi-Wan shrugged, then moved, reaching for Qui-Gon’s firm, leaking erection and guiding it into himself. Qui-Gon gasped at the sudden heat and pressure, prepared but still virgin tight. Obi-Wan remained impassive, even as he sat himself down, Qui-Gon’s penis fully sheathed within his body. “You can thrust, you know. It won’t hurt unless you want it to.”

Qui-Gon moaned, his attention wavering between the beautiful Force manifestation swirling around him and the exquisite pressure around his cock. “I- I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to avoid hurting me either,” Obi-Wan’s face was as passive as his limp cock. “You really don’t care whether you hurt me or not.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t resist anymore, shifting his hips, delighting in the friction, no matter how tight a virgin his former padawan was. Obi-Wan didn’t respond, simply shifting as Qui-Gon moved him.

“You feel so good,” Qui-Gon groaned. “Didn’t think you would.”

“It’s your fantasy. Why wouldn’t I feel good? I can be an innocent virgin or a seasoned whore. The real me is irrelevant.”

“The real you doesn’t want sex,” Qui-Gon sighed. “Can you move too, please?”

Obi-Wan obliged, moving sinuously, as if he had been pleasuring men for years. “The real you didn’t want _me_. Why would I want sex?”

“You’re beautiful. Can’t you just enjoy it?” Qui-Gon groaned.

“I’m safe,” Obi-Wan corrected. “A knight now.” He glanced down at his own penis with almost clinical curiosity. “As I said, it’s your fantasy. If you can imagine me enjoying it, I will. The real me is not relevant here.”

“I want to see you enjoy it. I want to hear how good my cock makes you feel. I want to know every single time I hit that spot deep inside you. I want to know I can make that cold veneer crack and make you come.”

“That’s up to you, not me.” He twisted his hips, his face still passive as if fresh from meditation.

Qui-Gon thrust harder. “Take my cock, Obi-Wan. Feel it!”

Obi-Wan huffed a breath suddenly, as if he had just been penetrated now, though his hips never stopped moving. His penis finally began to fill to Qui-Gon’s delight, bobbing up, fluid pooling at the tip. Qui-Gon reached for it and it was hot and turgid in his hand.

“Move, Kenobi. Fuck yourself. Give yourself pleasure. Let me feel you in the Force.”

“You’re very demanding,” Obi-Wan commented blandly, but he was a touch breathless now. He began to move to not only excite Qui-Gon, but also to stimulate himself, adjusting his body so Qui-Gon’s steady thrusts could rub over his prostate. He gasped at the first hit, pupils dilating immediately, his cock leaking freely now.

“Make noise!” Qui-Gon ordered. “Let me hear how good it feels!”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan gasped softly, like he sometimes did when something he had been reaching toward in the Force suddenly came together. “Oh, yes, there, Master.”

“Louder!” he thrust harder, aiming for the same place. A virgin might have cried out in pain, but an experienced lover would have rolled with the movement, driving themselves to greater pleasures. It had been two years now. “Surely Vos taught you how to take it up the ass by now. Louder! Show me you _feel_ it!”

“Ugh,” Obi-Wan pushed into his thrusts, grunting in time with them, each one louder than the one before.

“Knew you could enjoy it,” Qui-Gon’s voice was smug between his thrusts.

“Ugh, ugh, oh, it’s, oh, it’s your fantasy.”

“I want to make you come.”

Obi-Wan head had tipped back, his longer hair swinging as he moved, his grunts transformed to gasping moans as each thrust struck true, his beautiful eyes closed as his breathing came faster, his body pumping as he fucked himself on his former master’s cock. “Oh, Master, Master, oh,”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan was almost sobbing now, and Qui-Gon was so close. All around him, Obi-Wan’s Force presence sparkled, shining, ever changing as if he had wings, magnificent wings, as if he had merged with that great predatory bird and had folded his wings around them both. A winged warrior angel.

“I want you to come!”

“Master!” he sounded desperate now, his passion speeding rapidly toward his peak.

“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon was so close. It was really a shame the real Obi-Wan was far too cold and uptight to lose himself like this.

“Master!” So close. So close.

“Come, Sithdammit! Let me feel you come!” Qui-Gon was vibrating as much as that damn dildo, abandoning Obi-Wan’s cock to pull him closer, grabbing his hips hard enough to bruise. “Come, damn you. I need to come.”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan stilled abruptly, his cock deflating back to quiescence.

“Why not?” Qui-Gon gritted out, so close, desperate not to lose this orgasm.

“You can’t imagine it,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “You never shared my passion and you think I have none.”

“Argh,” Qui-Gon growled, his erection painful, his orgasm denied. “You teasing whore!”

“You’re only teasing yourself,” Obi-Wan chided gently, then he smoothly slipped off Qui-Gon’s raging erection and lay down beside him. “You can’t blame _me_ because you never found out what I look like at climax. Force knows you had every opportunity to try.”

“Why were you so cold?” Qui-Gon tried to control his breathing, tears in his eyes as those ghost wings melted away behind shields once more.

“How was _I_ cold?” Obi-Wan stared at the ceiling, passive again. “I’d have done anything for you. I would have learned from you, even if I wasn’t interested in sex. You were my master.”

“Why didn’t you find someone else?”

“Why didn’t I violate probation or break the rules?” he asked calmly. “Why didn’t I go find someone else to fuck me so you wouldn’t have to?”

“Yes!”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I wouldn’t disappoint you, Master, especially for something as trivial as sex.”

“Is it really so trivial to you?”

“You’re the one who didn’t train me. Clearly, you’re the one who thought sex was unimportant. At least for me.”

“You never forced the issue.”

“You said no.” He shrugged again. “It was only sex.”

“You never asked again. Never seemed to truly desire it. I almost hoped you’d sleep with Satine, but you decided to play martyr instead.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You didn’t love me. What was I supposed to desire?”

Qui-Gon’s penis had calmed from enraged to grumpy. “Me?” he asked incredulously. “I was fit, strong. Unwounded.”

“You didn’t love me.” Obi-Wan seemed past resigned now. Indifferent. He had been knighted. Qui-Gon’s connection to him was irrelevant.

“I never told you that,” Qui-Gon growled, defensive.

Obi-Wan snorted with laughter. “Did you really think I didn’t know? I wasn’t a child, still naively hoping that you really did love me somewhere deep down. Certainly I could justify it with the Code. There is no emotion and all that,” he waved his hand, casually naked as opposed to the respectful modesty he had expressed as a padawan. “But I saw the other masters and padawans. Saw the closeness. The love. The emotional intimacy. I saw how you behaved with Tahl. I knew how you treated people you loved and respected. I saw you with Jar Jar and Anakin and dozens of other temporary lovers and friends. I knew how you acted in infatuation. And I saw you with Xanatos.” His voice grew quiet, solemn. “I know how you treated people you couldn’t forgive. I wasn’t stupid.”

“I shielded that,” Qui-Gon argued back.

“In the Force,” Obi-Wan agreed. “In everything else, you’re not as subtle as you think. I knew you found me unattractive, but I assumed you’d be able to stomach it long enough for S-training.”

“You’re beautiful,” he protested weakly.

“Xanatos was beautiful,” Obi-Wan scoffed. “I’m just a safe fantasy. And you only want my body. The idea of actually touching my mind in real life terrifies you.”

Qui-Gon tried to imagine those wings again, hoping Fantasy Obi-Wan would reopen his mind. He didn’t. Qui-Gon felt a cold lump in his chest again, where the nerves were not growing back.

Obi-Wan leaned over him, now looking as he had as a padawan, buzz cut and braid, grief on his face, and Qui-Gon realized his bed was gone and they were lying beside the melting pit. “This me is still in him, you know. In the real Obi-Wan. He’s not just a beautiful, developed, well-balanced knight. He’s still the padawan who failed his master, who could never be forgiven, who was left behind in his incompetence.” Obi-Wan reached down to him, caressing his cheek with a finger. “Yoda has been trying to fix him, but . . . you know it’s just a façade.”

“Because he’s not that talented?”

Obi-Wan snorted, then moved his hand to flick Qui-Gon’s crooked nose. “Because he _knows_. He knows _everything._ ”

“What does he know?”

Obi-Wan looked up and across the pit the Sith struck Qui-Gon down and Obi-Wan yelled behind the red energy fields.

“Do you really think you kept your shields up as you lay here dying? He poured his life into you, trying to keep you alive. He knows you never forgave him, that you didn’t love him, that you didn’t think he would pass his trials, that he was already an afterthought. That you didn’t have a word for him, not because your breath gave out, but because your only thought was for Anakin. And still he loved you enough to drain his life away trying to save you.” Obi-Wan’s tone had grown more cold, disgusted, supercilious. Closer to the creepy fever voice.

“Love and sex aren’t the same thing, Master Jinn. You’d think a Jedi Master would know the difference.”

Across the pit, the Sith fell and Obi-Wan ran to his body, tears streaming down his face, his grief almost tangible in the Force.

“Was he still not safe to love?” Obi-Wan asked as they watched themselves. “Even as you were dying? Joining the Force?”

“He was emotional. He still could still have turned.”

“What did you see?”

“What did he see?” Gelf asked.

Qui-Gon blinked and he was back in the classroom. Gelf was staring at the screen; he had paused the playback at the point the Sith was towering over Obi-Wan in the pit, and stopped for a moment, his posture confused.

“What is he seeing?” Gelf had found it strange, that such an accomplished (though evil) warrior would drop his defenses like that to stare down a hole. “Was something happening in the pit?”

Cin frowned at the screen.

“Yes,” Master Si stared at the scene as if it were something he recognized. “He’s seeing death coming. He just can’t figure out why.”

“You were there,” Master Bes looked Qui-Gon in the eye. “What did you see?”

Jerrold turned to him, tapping him on the knee. “What did you see?”

_What did he see?_

* * *

Brilliant rays of light streamed out of the crystals in the meditation hearth, the myriad colors playing along the walls, the ceiling, and Yoda’s face. The Grandmaster sipped his tea in the quiet of the night, not taking to his bed, but instead listening to the Force, knowing he would soon be needed.

The sounds of passion next door had finally died down into a gentle silence, but there were strong currents swirling in the Force surrounding Qui-Gon Jinn. Yoda suspected his long-held denial was finally going to break, and such revelations were often painful.

Sometimes it was difficult to be Grandmaster. When one was the oldest Jedi in residence and looked to by so many for guidance, one had to make hard choices about who to help and leave alone, at least for now. The Force could be a help, but even Yoda could not be in two places at once.

The minutes ticked by, time seeming to move more slowly when the majority of the Temple slept. The ancient master pressed his hands against the warm cup, taking comfort in the heat, and stretched his bare feet out toward the hearth which had been set to put out a mild warmth as well. He wasn’t physically cold, but the Force currents swirling about were volatile, Dark and Light together. He was not above a small, comfortable indulgence before facing difficult tasks.

Unfortunately, Master Jinn wasn’t his only close friend and lineage kin who was troubled tonight. He glanced down at the rug next to his chair, remembering when young Obi-Wan used to join him on nights like this, for meditation, long talks, or just quiet time together when he couldn’t sleep. Those days were long gone now, Obi-Wan having grown into a full adult, capable of comforting himself in times of strife. _Usually_. Now that Simet had pointed it out, Obi-Wan’s hidden distress was much more obvious. It was not entirely clear why his former half-padawan was avoiding him, but he clearly did not want to, even if he felt it was the best course now.

“Oh, my not quite padawan. Taught you I did, shared troubles less heavy to bear are.” Resigned to the fact that there was nothing he could do tonight, he emptied his teacup, then reached down for the small sheaf of sketches he had found in his storage chest while his tea was steeping.

The sketches were Simet’s, done long ago when he had still been settling in at the rest home, and had chosen to draw young Kenobi as he had seen him a few days before, then presented them to his master as a thank you for his support. Yoda smiled fondly, brushing the pages gently with a clawed finger, feeling Simet’s quiet love and remembering Obi-Wan’s bright spirit and growth during that time. The sketches showed Obi-Wan packing dishes, stretching his still small frame as the checked higher shelves, a set of facial studies showing different expressions. The later sketches showed the two of them together, as seen from Simet’s point of view. He had wondered why his former padawan had been scrutinizing the boy so closely at the time, and when the sketches arrived, he had been delighted. One showed Obi-Wan kneeling in front of him, listening intently. Another showed the two sitting together on Simet’s rug as most of his furniture had already been moved. Yoda had been telling Simet to keep an eye on Obi-Wan in not so many words and telling Obi-Wan that Master Si needed help while he would be in a Council meeting. The last two sheets had shown them arriving and leaving, the former when Obi-Wan had been following behind him and the latter when the boy had been carrying his great-grandmaster on his narrow shoulders.

Yoda remembered dropping young Obi-Wan off with Simet on the pretense that his former padawan needed help packing. This was true, but Yoda had also been worried about the boy, not wanting to leave him alone. The Council meeting concerned his master’s progress on Trell and they would be discussing whether he should be returned to Jinn or if another master should be found. Obi-Wan was quite sensitive to the Unifying Force, and Jinn was still so volatile at the time Yoda had been concerned he would sense his master’s anger through their strained bond, even from as far away as Trell, and hoped Si’s strong, quiet presence would not only distract the boy but also eclipse any stray Force currents. The last picture showed them leaving, Obi-Wan’s obvious relief at his temporary master’s return (though he had gotten along well with Si) and his quiet happiness at simply belonging with someone after his recent troubles with his master. Si’s hand had captured their quiet peace with each other, their ease and comfortable companionship. That was gone now, distance and anxiety getting in the way. The Force was strangely silent as to whether the situation would resolve or become a permanent rift. Simet had been urging him to be proactive, but with the Force so quiet he had hesitated and had lost the opportunity for now.

He closed the portfolio to put the sketches away, smiling at the note that accompanied them. Si’s handwriting was a bit cramped, but still quite legible.

_Dear Master,_

_Thank you for your assistance as I surrender to obsolescence. Please pass on my gratitude to your duckling as well._

_Kind regards,_

_Simet_

“Hrrm, duckling he is not, Padawan.” Yoda flipped back through the drawings to see young Obi-Wan following behind him, subconsciously hunching as if trying not to tower over the tiny master. “See what you meant I do. Still not duck he is.”

There was a disturbance starting to grow in the Force now. Yoda put his teacup into the washer and put the artwork away, then turned off the hearth, meditating quietly in the dark, waiting for the storm to break.

* * *

“DON’T DROP THE LIGHTSABER! DON’T DROP THE LIGHTSABER!”

Tahl came awake suddenly to find her lover thrashing and screaming, mortal terror rolling off him in waves.

“HE’LL KILL YOU!”

“Qui-Gon!” She tried to wake him, then restrain him with the Force to prevent him from hurting himself, but he was too terrified for her to break through. He was so worked up she doubted she could even prevent the neighbors from sensing him emotions, blaring like an emergency klaxon.

“HE’LL KILL YOU! HE’LL KILL YOU! RUN! TAKE ANAKIN AND RUN!”

“Qui-Gon!”

There was a sharp rapping sound on the sliding door to the balcony.

_Yoda._

“Thank the Force.” Tahl flicked the lock, knowing that the tiny master would not come in without permission unless he sensed she was incapacitated. She belatedly realized both she and Qui-Gon were stark naked and the bed reeked of sweat and sex, but she figured like healers, Yoda had seen (and smelled) worse.

Yoda hobbled in quickly and Tahl felt a wave of calm fill the room. It didn’t soothe Qui-Gon one bit, but she at least felt better. At Yoda’s gentle Force push she backed away and then suddenly, like a thunderclap in the Force, Yoda broke Qui-Gon out of his dream.

“HE’LL KILL Y—” Qui-Gon stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing where he was.

“Safe you are,” Yoda tapped his knee gently with his gimer stick, only the tips of his ears high enough to be seen over the side of the bed.

“Master?” he sounded as if he weren’t sure if he was awake or if this was a trick of the Sith’s or blood loss.

“Yoda it is,” he grumbled, as he pulled himself up on the foot of the bed. “Master Dooku here is not.”

“Thank you for coming, Master Yoda.” Tahl sat down on her side of the bed, letting Qui-Gon cling to her, his panic still running high.

“Safe you are now, in Tahl’s room you are.” Yoda sent reassurance in the Force. “Dead the Sith is. Hurt you now he cannot.”

“Obi-Wan had my lightsaber.” Qui-Gon seemed to be aware he was awake now, trusting his familiarity with Yoda would be too difficult for a Sith to fake.

“Yes. Used it well he did.”

“He didn’t run,” Qui-Gon huffed. “He should have flipped out of the pit and run.”

“He could have,” Yoda agreed. “Told him something else the Force did.”

“I saw it . . .” Qui-Gon’s breaths were slowing, but he still looked frightened and disoriented.

“We’re here, Qui-Gon,” Tahl reassured him, rubbing his back, while Yoda placed a calming hand on his shin.

“Master, I _saw_ it.”

Tahl frowned, confused.

“Did you?” Yoda asked.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“What did you see, Qui-Gon?” Tahl asked gently. “Something in the room? Something in your dream?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I saw it, on Naboo. I saw what the Sith saw.”

“Sensed it you did,” Yoda agreed. “See what the Sith did, I think not.”

“What did you see?” Tahl asked again, gently.

Qui-Gon took a few deep breaths to calm himself enough to speak clearly. “I saw it, I saw what it was when the Sith stopped and stared into the pit.” He paused, taking another calming breath, looking at neither Yoda nor Tahl, seeing only the memory in his mind’s eyes. “I saw Light. So much Light.”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded. “Went to that place I did. Much Darkness there, much Light also.”

“What happened?” He finally looked Yoda in the eye. “What happened?”

“Opened himself to the Force he did. Let Light in he did. Let his own light out he did. Channeled Force he did. Conduit for Light he was, overcame Darkness he did. Calmed his mind. When caught by surprise, stand against it the Sith could not.”

“He shouldn’t be able to do that, Master.” Qui-Gon’s tone was not accusatory, but frightened. “He doesn’t have that kind of power.”

“Hmm, not all the time, no. Alderaani he is. A greater ability to reach beyond normal power they have in times of need. Recover well they do if abuse it they do not. Very pure light he has when calm he is, but limits to his power I cannot say.”

“Why am I still alive?” Qui-Gon shuddered in Tahl’s arms, despite the comfort Yoda was radiating. “He was so bright. I could see everything. I was dying.”

“Yes, dying you were. Very close it was. Crossed over completely you might have. Still channeling the Light he was. Sent it through you he did. Little ability he has in the Living Force, had to trust you to absorb it he did, to direct it, but keep you alive for short time he could. Much love he had for you, his duty he felt to fight for you. If arrived healers had not, follow you in death he might have.”

Uncharacteristically, Qui-Gon Jinn burst into tears.

“There was so much Light in him and I pushed him away,” he sobbed. “He loved me, and I wouldn’t love him.”

“Yes.” Yoda did not contradict him, knowing that if he was to move forward as a Jedi and a man, this was something he had to face.

“I didn’t trust him, and I didn’t love him, and I ran ahead because I thought I could take out the Sith without him.”

“Yes.”

“I let the Sith lead the fight,” Qui-Gon sobbed. “I ran ahead and left Obi-Wan to face the Sith alone.”

“Yes.”

“And even when I was dying, I pushed him away. I couldn’t trust him.”

“Yes.”

“I hurt him.” Qui-Gon took a deep, trembling breath. “I hurt him. Over and over. For years.”

Tahl never wavered, supporting him during his revelatory confession, but it was clear she was very disturbed.  
  
“He loved me. He loved me and I didn’t care. He tried so hard and it didn’t matter.” He coughed, trying to breathe through emotion and phlegm. “Anakin gave me a smile and offered a pod race and won my heart. Obi-Wan offered his life over and over again, and I still couldn’t open my heart to him.”

“Know this I do.”

“I need to apologize to him. I, . . . I need to make it up to him.”

“Do this you cannot,” Yoda shook his head sadly. “The past like the future is not. Set it is. Happened already it has. Live in the moment you do. Understand you do, only one chance for each moment, each choice. Built the past is from these moments, these choices. Do again you cannot. Do better you can only going forward. But too much this may be for amends to make.”

“I have to try, Master.” Qui-Gon swiped at his eyes with the bedsheets. “Even if he can’t accept it, I owe it to him to try.”

“Do it now, you cannot,” Yoda shook his head. “In the field he is, uncertain it is when return he will.” He crept closer, patting Qui-Gon’s knee. “Ready for this you are not. Emotional you are. Overwrought you are. Still trying to understand it all you are. Still much fear and anger you have, acceptance not yet.” Yoda paused, waiting until Qui-Gon could look him in the eye. “More work you need to do, with your therapist, with yourself, with the Force. But a big step tonight you have taken.”

“Yes.” He took another deep breath.

“Calm you must be. Many years of moments you have let pass while denying his light. Work you have to do. Help you we will if want that you do.”

“Is he,” Qui-Gon sniffed. “Is he okay, Master? I trained him, but,” he swallowed, still reluctant to face the truth. “But I didn’t give him what he needed.” He put a hand over his heart, as if this new knowledge was physically painful. “I didn’t take care of his _heart_. I wasn’t fair to him. Does he understand it was me, not him?” Another deep breath. “Does he have someone who loves him? Does he know how to love a padawan?”

Yoda sighed deeply. “Still learning he is. Still working through his feelings he is. Friends he has,” he nodded at Tahl. “Mentors, teachers, half-master, but fix everything that will not. Ready for his padawan learner now he is not. Know this he does, push him I do not. Understand more over time your issues need not become his own he does.” Yoda looked a bit uncomfortable, wary of saying too much and violating Obi-Wan’s privacy. “Someone to love, still working on that I am.”

Tahl swallowed a nervous laugh. She had spoken to Bant and reassured her former padawan that Obi-Wan seemed to be developing just fine given the circumstances and would not share himself before he was ready, and that sounded quite healthy to her. Bant had still been concerned Obi-Wan’s low libido was pathological, and she was inordinately worried he might be missing out. Tahl had explained that human sexuality was far more diverse than Mon Calmarian sexuality, and Qui-Gon Jinn was not a good example of _average_. As for missing out, her friend seemed to know his own heart well, and she had already told him he could come to her if he needed guidance, much to Bant’s relief. Bant’s older lineage brother was human, so she was quite sure her master could be a help if needed. With Yoda still fussing over his half-padawan, Tahl was quite sure Obi-Wan would have any opportunities pointed out to him as they came up.

Master Yoda had come closer and offered Qui-Gon a shared meditation to help him calm himself and get some sleep. Tahl took the opportunity to put on a robe (mostly for politeness since Yoda had been graciously ignoring her nudity) and to make tea. Before it had finished steeping, Tahl felt Qui-Gon slip into an exhausted but calm sleep. She carried mugs for both herself and Yoda, and sat on her couch, waiting for the Grandmaster to join her. It didn’t take long, but he ensured Qui-Gon would not be disturbed by further dreams before he woke for the day.

“Thank you,” Tahl said as she heard Yoda climb up on the ottoman. “I’ve haven’t found him that upset in years.”

“When turned Xan did?” Yoda asked before blowing on his tea.

“No,” Tahl shook her head. “Though he was certainly upset then. He was near hysterical like that when Obi-Wan was delirious and babbling with Zorran fever. He commed me several times. He was utterly panicked, terrified Obi-Wan could die and his ramblings were hitting too close to home I think.” She sighed. “I always thought he loved Obi-Wan, but had a difficult time showing it. I never realized he was afraid to love him at all.”

“Wanted to love him he did, wants to he still does, but too afraid he is. Even when dying, not safe to open his heart he felt. When Obi-Wan dying might be . . . finally safe for love to feel if know it never the boy would. That’s why panic he did, that’s why feel love he did, because a safe moment it was. That’s why love him he did for a moment only in the mines of Bandomeer, when formed the bond did. Offer his life Obi-Wan did, safe he was to love in the moment only. When the moment passes, bury it so deep, or simply dissolve it he does. Love deeply, feel deeply let himself he would not. Even with Skywalker, the love he has is shallow infatuation. Safer it feels because tell himself he does that destiny it is, that the Force brought Anakin to him. That not just the Chosen One Anakin is, but chosen he is too. If the will of the Force it is, safe to love he must be?” Yoda made a scoffing sound. “The Chosen One he might be. Heard it before the Jedi have, many times. Some trained were, some not, but risk it is always. Some stay in the Light, some to Darkness turn.”

Yoda sighed. “Thinks he does that fool I am. Thinks he did that block Skywalker’s training out of spite we did, or stubbornness. Too attached the boy still is, too volatile he still is, with the teenage years ahead. No shame there is if the Jedi path fits one not. Force the path on a student one should not. Ends badly that does, with much pain. Other possible Chosen Ones I have known. When trained not, Darkness in heart they might have, but deeper powers largely untapped stay. No deep connection they have, no disciplined study of Force. Create our own worst enemies we should not. Others trained were, powerful Jedi they became. Sometimes a mistake this was still. Sometimes to Darkness they turned. Decide we must as best we can. Listen to experience we do, cautious we must be.”

“Are any of them still Jedi?” Tahl asked.

Yoda nodded. “Simet. Happens often it does not, but over the centuries many have been. In the last hundred years, hrmm, two others? One trained, one not. The trained one a nun became, the untrained one a con man became. Open our eyes are, our minds closed are not.”

“Master Silvanus? _Really_?”

“Blood counts not the only indication there is.”

“Why did the Council think Master Si could be the Chosen One?”

Yoda shrugged. “Born in one sun system he was, but the suns merged had. Binary system visible was when written prophecy was. No parents as child he had, given up for adoption when born he was. A very strong Force presence he has, stood out in the creche he did.” Yoda stretched his legs, remembering. “Very bright he was. Afraid of his own power he was not. Think he was Chosen One I did not, but old enough I was that know that a possibility it was. Very strong in Force he is, very attuned, very grounded, very powerful. A very accomplished Jedi he is. The Chosen One he is not, but a great gift to the Jedi he has been. Training him a risk was too but came to the Temple as an infant he did. Balance himself he does; needs help sometimes he does, but cold rage in his heart there is not. A formidable warrior he is, an asset even now. Too easy it is to focus on flashy prophecies and ignore other gifts.”

“Hmm,” Tahl nodded. Obi-Wan would never be mistaken for a prophesied child, but it was good that someone as influential as Master Yoda recognized his value. “So you’re working on finding Obi-Wan someone to love?” she asked, sounding hopeful. “A friend, a padawan or a lover?”

Yoda winced. “Make friends he does just fine.”

“It sounds as if you have a potential padawan set aside for him.”

“Hrmm, ready he is not. Possibility only.”

“And a lover?” Tahl asked.

“Interfere I will not. Encouragement only I give him. Possibilities exist but take the leap he has not.” Yoda looked down at his tea, suddenly tired. “His potentials moving in time are. Nothing soon for him I can see. Worry for him I do. Lonely he is.”

“He needs to find someone he can trust with his heart.”

“He does,” Yoda agreed. “Much love he has to give, waiting to grow it is. Feelings he may have but trust not yet.”

Tahl leaned back in her chair, too tired to be angry at Qui-Gon tonight. “Can he ever find someone to trust after everything?”

“A time for change this is. Nothing certain is.”

“He might _not_ find anyone?” Tahl asked, alarmed.

“Potentials exist, but afraid to ask for help he is. Simet also concerned is.” Yoda felt the currents again. “Let this go on I cannot. Clear on _that_ Force is.”

* * *

“Good evening,” Bes peeked around Si’s half-open door with a grin. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

“Heh,” Si shook his head ruefully as he marked his place on the datapad he was reading from and powered it down for the night. “I don’t know about you, but at my age most of my life is waiting. Waiting for my pills. Waiting for Brother Folli. Waiting to see if my tremor calms enough for me to do something. Waiting for the next healer appointment. You, Bes, are actually something worth waiting for.”

Bes looked down, touched by the compliment.

“Sister Ebberly came by with some cold tea. There’s still some left if you’d like to pour yourself some,” Si waved in the general direction of the carafe. “Telosian mint I think.”

Bes had to admit it sounded good, though he tried not to drink much before bed, not wanting to have to get up and relieve himself, but he was a bit nervous, his palms damp and his mouth dry. “Maybe a little, thank you.” He poured himself half a glass and sat next to Si on the couch, where his sort-of lover was enjoying his own glass with apparently little regard for ‘fresher runs. Come to think of it, he didn’t recall Si getting up all that many times per night. Perhaps only once. He’d have to find out what prostate meds Si took.

“So, um, what do you think we should do tonight?” Bes finally asked, nervously. Si had not pressured him for sex in the past weeks, seemingly content to share his bed and spend that time sleeping. They had cuddled (Si said he was very tactile in private, so he hoped Bes was good with that), they had kissed, they had kissed while cuddling, and they had shared meditations. And both his and Si’s hands had wandered further and further each time, but nothing that would have earned them a parental warning in a holofilm. Si was very respectful of Bes’s limits. Bes was starting to hope he’d be less so.

“What do you want to do tonight?”

Bes sighed internally. Sometimes Si was a little too accommodating. “I want to know if you’re . . . satisfied with what we have or if you want more.”

Si nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes,” Si reached out a shaking hand and Bes took it. “Yes, I’m very satisfied with what we have. Yes, I would enjoy more if and when you’re ready.”

Bes looked at him steadily. Si had been so patient with him. Had never pressured him. Had always been wary of overstepping or overwhelming his psychometric senses. Had seemed to enjoy their time together.

“If, if I wanted to enjoy, um, a little more, what would you suggest?” Bes knew he wasn’t ready to reveal everything, but it had been very good so far. He had always been an enthusiastic lover, and while he had certainly enjoyed less intense intimacies in his late teens, he wasn’t exactly sure what the equivalent was in his retirement.

Si ran his thumb over the back of Bes’s hand. “It depends on our limitations, and how far you want to go. When I was trying to grow closer with someone, well, dancing was a good means, but I don’t know if you feel steady enough for that. Massage is also good, but,” he held up his shaking hands. “We could continue as we are, possibly with fewer clothes, though that seems to be something you haven’t been ready for. If you wanted something more hands off, we could explore each other in the Force, either through meditation or,” Si gestured, and Bes felt a light caress up the back of his neck. “If you wanted something less physical, we could perhaps indulge in some erotica. If you wanted something more physical,” he shrugged. “You’ll need to tell me what you had in mind. Simultaneous masturbation is an option, if you aren’t ready for full intimacy. Or we could pleasure each other. Obviously, I have trouble with my hands, but let’s just say I have an embarrassing number of personal devices to help with that.”

“You do?” Bes asked, stunned.

Si rolled his eyes. “Master doesn’t just bring me sweaters.” He sighed. “I try not to imagine who has to order them for him.”

Bes burst out laughing, eyes bright. “You don’t suppose it’s his duckling, do you?”

“ _Hell, no_ ,” Si snickered. “The poor young man wouldn’t be in the state he’s in now if he knew how much of a horndog Master can be. He might be traumatized, but that would be a different problem.” He shook his head. “I just hope it’s not his assistant, or worse, poor Sister Gabby.”

Bes managed to stop laughing, but his eyes were twinkling. “That’s certainly an option.”

“It is.” Si finished his tea. “Oral sex is another possibility, though with my throat problems, I can’t be quite so thorough about that as you might like.”

“Thorough?” Bes asked.

“If I try to swallow you, I won’t be able to swallow food the next day.”

“Oh. No deep throating.”

“Exactly. However, I have been told I’m still good with my mouth.”

Bes blushed. “So long as I’m gentle.”

“It would be appreciated.” Si stretched, mentally going over the options. “It doesn’t sound like you’re remotely ready for it, but I’m still able to enjoy anal intercourse, and I expect I’d also be able to maintain an erection long enough if you wanted to receive that at some point.”

Bes shifted in his seat. The idea was very arousing, but unfortunately required fewer clothes. “I haven’t in years, but . . . later.”

“Yes.” Si looked at him intently. “That seemed like more than you were asking for.” He seemed pleased by Bes’s interest. “If you wanted something more physical, but less explicit, we could perhaps engage in a little frottage.”

“Hmm,” Bes definitely liked _that_ idea. “Um, with clothes on?”

Si looked him over, a barely-there smirk playing on his lips. “Perhaps not _these_ clothes.” The smirk deepened when Bes blushed. “But yes, with clothes is fine.”

Bes was very interested, but still anxious. “Um, do you want me to wear my legs, or . . .” He hadn’t actually brought his prosthetics into the bed. “Do you, um, is that a turn off?” He really wasn’t sure.

Si reached for his hand again and squeezed it gently until Bes looked him in the eye. “Bes, your legs are not a problem for me. I don’t mind if you wear the prosthetics. I don’t mind if you wear the caps. Actually, wearing the caps while we sleep is pleasant, because I’ve slept with amputees before and prosthetics can be cold, but if you wanted to sleep in them for added mobility, I’d just wear socks. As for whether you want to wear them during sex,” he shrugged. “How much leverage are you trying to get? What’s more comfortable for your stumps?” He gave him a pointed look. “What position are you trying for?”

Bes laughed, despite his anxiety. “Socks, huh?”

“I used to wear socks with Chenna. Her feet would get cold when she hit her mid-seventies.”

“But,” it was hard to put his fears into words. “Are my stumps going to keep you from enjoying it? From orgasming?”

Si raised an eyebrow. “As opposed to my being a centenarian?” He shook his head while Bes giggled nervously. “I’m one-hundred-and-five years old, Bes. The plumbing _usually_ works, but certainly not every time. And I’m an old man. Sex isn’t about rushing to orgasm anymore. Sex is about remembering I’m still alive. Sex is about companionship. Giving pleasure and sharing it. An orgasm can be a delightful outcome, but it’s not a requirement.” He leaned over and kissed Bes softly on the cheek. “So how did you want to do this?” He asked before shifting closer and kissing Bes on the lips. “Sitting? Standing? Laying down?” He brought one shaking hand to rest against Bes’s cheek then began kissing down his neck and Bes gasped. “Side by side? On bottom? On top?”

Bes shuddered in his grasp and pulled away. If Si kept doing what he was doing, they’d never get around to this new plan.

“Laying down,” Bes pressed his face against Si’s shoulder. “Won’t have to worry about falling.”

“Yes, that would spoil the mood.” Si rubbed Bes’s arm. “Why don’t you go change into something comfortable, something you won’t mind getting dirty.” He gave Bes’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Bring something to change into if you want to spend the night.”

“Okay,” Bes kissed Si suddenly. “I’ll be back.”

Si put a hand on his arm to ask him to wait. “Is it alright if I wear a little less, or is that too forward or uncomfortable?”

Bes’s pupils dilated and he could feel his heart rate increase. “Yes, that is just fine.”

“Alright.” Si stood up and helped Bes stand. “Don’t overthink it, Bes. And I’ll understand if you change your mind.”

Bes took a deep breath. “Yes. Just something comfortable.”

“Exactly.”

Bes nodded and hurried to his room before he lost his nerve. Apparently, Quinlan’s psychometry had been right, and it wasn’t just wishful thinking. Si really had had an affair with Elton Pike. Invited him into his bed. Wore socks. And wasn’t going to be put off by stumps or prosthetics (and he could probably handle scars, though Bes wasn’t ready for that yet). He wondered if Si had scars under his clothes (though it didn’t sound as if he would be self-conscious about it). He hadn’t seen anything in their previous explorations, though he did get a peek at some freckles on the back of his neck.

“Don’t overthink it, Old Kiffar.” Bes pulled out clean underwear, giggling a little hysterically that he was hopefully going to mess them up, then a second pair for later. He looked down at the clothes he was wearing, and yes, Si was right, the fastenings could definitely make heavy petting uncomfortable. That left gym clothes and pajamas. His workout clothes were more ragged than his sleepwear, and he had ordered in more of the latter for his sleepovers. And they would work whether he wore his prosthetics or not. He quickly changed into a new set, then packed a small bag with a change of clothes and headed back to Si’s room. As usual, Si’s door opened as he approached and locked behind him, followed by the privacy shield rising. The sitting room was only dimly lit, no meditation was planned, so Bes walked through the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to savor the view.

Si was sitting up on the side of the bed he slept on when Bes stayed over. He was wearing the silk robe Bes had seen hanging in the ‘fresher, and apparently little else. A hint of chest hair peeked out from the neck of the robe, and Si’s long, muscled calves and feet were bare below the hem. It wasn’t clear if he was wearing underwear or not, but he’d been very accommodating so far, so Bes suspected he was. He was just wearing less, like he asked. It was damn sexy.

“Hi,” Bes wished he had thought of something more suave to say, but Si never seemed to mind.

“Hello, Bes.” The comforter had been pulled down along with the top sheet. Si turned over on his side and patted the bed invitingly. “That’s a good color on you,” he nodded at Bes’s new pajamas.

“Thank you,” he put his bag and robe on his usual hook and sat on the bed, hesitating.

Si rubbed his back to soothe his anxiety. “How do you want to do this?”

Bes was tempted to say _in the dark_ , but then he’d be missing out on the Master Silvanus show.

“I’ve seen you do your barre routines,” Bes whispered at last, unable to look Si in the eye. “And you’re definitely more agile than I am. If it’s okay with you, I think you should be on top.”

“Okay.” Si gently pulled on Bes’s shoulder until he lay down, then drew close, kissing him until he relaxed. “Bes, you’re going to have to tell me where it’s okay to touch you, so I don’t hurt you.” He kissed him again before he could get nervous. “I know you were mangled. I don’t want to make you take too much of my weight in the wrong place.”

Bes sighed. These weren’t questions he liked to think about. Still, he had worked with many different physical therapists since his injury. This wasn’t completely unfamiliar, if in a totally different context.

“It should be okay if you put weight on my thighs, but not below that. I still have the knee on the right side. Pressure at the transition points can cause pain. I was much more, um, fit and muscular the last time I did anything like this, but my abdominal injuries were minor, and I’ve had people press there during PT, so I think that will be okay.”

Si nodded. “I think I can manage that.” He stroked a shaking finger along Bes’s cheek. “Let me know if I’m leaning on you too hard. I’m heavy for an old man.”

Bes rubbed Si’s arm appreciatively. “You still have your muscles.”

Si shrugged a shoulder, inadvertently shifting his robe. Bes stared at the exposed skin, wondering if he would touch it.  
  
“How is your back?”

“I have some weakness there. Brother Artin has me do exercises to compensate for damaged muscles, but it generally doesn’t hurt from pressure, just overexertion.”

“Do you want a pillow for support?”

Bes tried not to think about how different sex was now that he was old and disabled. He remembered when his body used to follow his commands, rather than being something he had to work around. Clearly Si had more experience with this than he did.

After quite a few rounds of shuffling and adjusting (and enough sit ups that Brother Artin would have been pleased), Bes found himself comfortably situated in Si’s bed, his lover warm against his side, kissing and stroking. Bes ran his hands over Si’s silk-covered back, marveling at the still well-defined muscles. Si’s hands were stroking over his chest, over his stomach. Bes tried not to think about his less than sexy physique and when his own hand brushed against Si’s bare skin, the arousal he could feel proved a very pleasant distraction.

Before he realized it, his hands were sliding under that robe (and apparently it was Si’s _sexy time_ robe if his psychometric impressions were correct). Si hummed in pleasure and pulled back slightly to loosen the belt (and yes, he was wearing underwear), and suddenly much more skin was revealed. There were a few scars on his chest and abdomen. Bes recognized the work of a vibroblade, a knife slash, and when Si moved to straddle him, faint remnants of road rash on one calf above boot level. Clearly Si had had an exciting career outside the salle.

Bes lay back on the pillows, his breath quickening as Si kissed down his neck, nibbled at his ears, nuzzled at his collarbone, testing the boundaries of his nightshirt, but not moving further without permission. It had been so long Bes had been worried he wouldn’t react appropriately, but his body had a long memory and he gasped as he began to grow hard. It wasn’t long before he was erect in his pants, his hips moving slightly, enjoying the feel of cloth moving over his skin.

Si was nuzzling at his neck, breathing in his scent. “Are you feeling good, Bes?”

“Yes,” Bes ran his hands through Si’s short hair, delighting when Si pressed back against his touch, a purring sound in his throat. He felt good, he felt breathless, he felt worthy of love again.

“Should I move my attentions lower?” Si asked before he began licking along Bes’s collarbone.

“Yes,” Bes gasped, his hips rising. “Please.”

Si smiled down at him, then kissed him deeply. Bes slid his hands down toward Si’s ass, trying to pull him closer, and Si ended the kiss with a growl that went straight to Bes’s groin. Si let Bes guide him closer, let him take the lead. Bes cried out in surprise when their groins touched, exhilarated to find Si was as hard as he was, trembling from his own arousal and the feel of his partner’s. Si made a pleased sound deep in his throat as their cocks began to rub together, letting Bes pull him in closer to writhe against him.

Part of Bes was angry at himself for waiting so long, for not trying to share himself sooner, while another part of him wondered if it would have felt this good years ago, when he would have thought of this as foreplay or for teenagers too horny to wait for S-training. Si nuzzled against his face and began to push and rub against him, and Bes cried out again, pressing back, trying to find a mutually pleasing rhythm. Si started out slow and steady, wanting to be sure Bes could take the weight and could follow the movement. Bes remembered far too many years of saber drills and surrendered to it, but this time, instead of suppressing his desire he embraced it and let it free. The excitement began to build, the pleasure heightened, and Bes knew Si felt the same, that both of them were moving toward climax. He had been right, Si still had that agile dancer’s body, and could rub against him in all the right ways without pressing down on him with his full weight. Si’s breath was coming faster now, grunting with each thrust and Bes began to moan, and the Force was singing in his ears, singing in his heart and above him Si was glowing, shining in the Living Force. Beautiful. Powerful. Luminous.

And then he came.

Bes came back to himself to find Si still covering him, laughing softly into his neck.

“Are you alright, Bes?” Si asked, nuzzling him gently.

“Yes,” Bes was laughing himself as he tried to catch his breath. “Very much, yes.”

Si snorted against his shoulder, then carefully lifted himself off Bes and lay down beside him. Bes smiled, laughing at himself.

“Good?” Si asked. He was holding his hand up in front of his face, frowning at it.

“Yes,” Bes reached for his other hand. “That was amazing.”

“Huh,” Si wiggled his fingers and Bes realized they were barely shaking. “It was very good.”

Bes leaned closer, mystified.

“Excuse me, Bes. I’m going to be terribly rude right now.” Si leaned over and kissed Bes on the cheek, then sprang from the bed, snatched up a sketch pad and settled into his chair, facing his lover. Bes stared at him, wondering if Si would actually try to sketch. Si put on his reading glasses and did just that.

“You’re drawing?” Bes asked.

“Hold still,” Si frowned in concentration. “I usually have a little time after climax with a partner. I always thought it was something Master was doing, but maybe not.”

Bes marveled, wondering how many years it had been since he had seen Si draw. He had been curious about the drawing pad in Si’s bedroom but hadn’t pried.

“It doesn’t work if you masturbate?” he asked, dismayed to see the hand not sketching was starting to tremble again.

“Not to this extent, not more than a relaxing meditation. That’s why I thought Master was doing it. Sometimes it would happen with Chenna, but my condition was less severe then.” Si grimaced as he focused in on the details. “And masturbation tends to be difficult and unsatisfying with my condition.”

“Oh.”

“It is what is it is, but that’s why Master worries about me. Other than the always a padawan thing.” He put down the charcoal and held up his hand again. It was shaking too much to continue, but still less than usual. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Bes smiled. “Glad I could help. Can I see?”

Si shrugged shyly. “I’m not as skilled as I used to be.” He turned the pad around to show a sketch of Bes’s face, relaxed in quiet delight. Bes sat up (surprising himself that he had the energy to do so), and peered closer, wishing he had brought his glasses. The features looked familiar, though it had been years since he had seen that expression in the mirror.

“You’re still very talented,” Bes hoped Si would let him sense it psychometrically later but didn’t want to do so before he had a chance to spray it with adhesive.

“I had a good model.” He stood up, gave Bes a gentle kiss on the forehead, then washed his hands and rejoined him in bed. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Bes giggled. “You’re welcome.” He remembered that painting of Elton Pike. He knew Si couldn’t do anything like that anymore, but he wondered how he would look if Si could paint him now, how his prosthetics would look through Si’s eyes.

“So is this something you’ll want to do again sometime?” Si asked.

Bes huddled closer. “Yes, I know this is less . . . exciting than you’re used to but thank you for indulging _me_.” He reached for Si’s hand, laying it over his heart.

Si looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

Bes sighed. “That I’m not . . . not ready for . . . full intercourse.”

Si leaned in to draw him closer. “What makes you think what we did was less exciting than anything I normally do? Was it the drawing? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No!” Frankly, seeing Si drawing his post-coital portrait was going to be fodder for his fantasies for _years_. “I just meant . . . that I’m not ready to have sex like you’re used to.”

Si tossed his head back and laughed. Hard.

“Oh, Bes,” he kissed him again. “The only other person I have sex with is _Yoda_. Frottage _is_ how I have sex most of the time.”

“Oh.” Bes cuddled closer. “Like we did?”

“Well,” Si shrugged. “With Master we prefer to be naked, and a little lubricant goes a long way. We take different positions, depending on how his knee is feeling on a given day. And we pleasure each other in other ways: oral sex, with fingers, with toys, with the Force. But Master is quite fond of frottage. We both get to move around, and it overcomes the height difference.”

“Oh,” Bes laughed. “But you’d like to try other stuff also?”

“We could, if you’re comfortable with it.” Si stretched like a cat and the silk of his robe slid over Bes’s bare skin. Bes was really starting to like Si in that robe. “It’s not enjoyable if you’re not comfortable.”

“Right.”

Si kissed his temple. “We should get cleaned up while it’s still easy to do. Did you want help or privacy?”

Bes sighed. “Better now than later.” He pushed up on his elbows, grimacing at the feel of his soiled underpants. “I’ll take care of it, but . . .” he closed his eyes suddenly, tears sneaking up on him unexpectedly. “Soon. Um, next time, maybe, I can be more . . . open? But there are scars.”

Si sidled closer, his thigh creeping up along Bes’s. “I understand. I used to cover my scars before I had the neck ones removed.” He kissed him again. “I didn’t like making my vulnerable places so obvious, so I had the healers treat them with meds and skin regeneration.” He tipped his head back. “You can still see where they attached the new skin under my jaw and a little below my collarbone. I don’t think I would have been able to be the Battlemaster if I hadn’t, much less go on the holonews. The voice was bad enough.”

“I’ve never seen pictures of you with scars.”

“I didn’t pose for pictures unless they were covered. Master used to buy me scarves back then.”

“Reddy had a painting of you in a scarf. It was in the art display recently.”

“He did several,” Si stood up, determined to get cleaned up before he fell asleep. “I had light duties then, and he would only pose if I’d reciprocate.” He came around to Bes’s side of the bed to help him up. “All part of the plan to stop me from becoming a hermit.”

Bes looked at him, concerned. “You tried to become a hermit?”

“I did,” Si admitted. “I couldn’t speak, I was on a feeding tube, it was my first major bout of depression, and my scars made it look like I had tried to slash my throat with a dull tree-saw, so half the Temple thought I had bungled a suicide attempt. It was a decidedly awful time in my life.”

Bes winced as he stood up, letting Si steady him on his mechanical feet. “That does sound terrible. How did you move past it?”

“For a long time I didn’t. Scared the hell out of Master. I lost too much weight, refused to leave my room, and when it was clear it wouldn’t get better any time soon, I considered leaving the Jedi or taking a deep space posting. I did start to get better, but it was many small steps. Improving my sign language. Taking better care of myself. Learning dozens of ways to tie scarves.”

Bes laughed. Si let him go to use the fresher, reaching for the bath wipes to clean himself up. Bes resisted the urge to look while Si disrobed.

“I had a few field missions after I got back into condition. I wasn’t going back into the Dip Corps with my voice so weak, but I took on other missions. The scars were too distinctive, and opponents honed in on them, in the salle and the field, so after the main restoration surgeries were done, I had them removed. I usually didn’t bother for scars hidden by clothes unless they hampered mobility.”

Bes hadn’t fully closed the door, wanting to continue the conversation. He could hear Si wiping himself down before he went to the bureau for clean clothes.

“There was a nasty slash on my leg that constricted. Had that cleaned up and you can barely see it now. Another on the inside of my arm for the same reason. I only did short runs, so I was in the Temple long enough to complete follow up treatments. I know not every Jedi could. Honestly, if I didn’t look like a walking suicide I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”

Bes could understand the reasoning. He could easily cover his scars with clothes, and the healers had taken special care with the deep cuts on his face, knowing the rest of them were too extensive to remove. “You had a few interesting ones.”

“Some have boring stories, others less so.”

Bes had gotten himself washed off and into clean clothes again and glanced up at the mirror to check his face. He looked just fine (and quite relaxed) but the mirror also caught Si’s reflection, facing away and stark naked. Despite his own scars, Bes suddenly wanted to move up to naked frottage soon. Si didn’t need elastic tights to highlight his assets.

Bes washed his face to make himself look away and when he dried his eyes and looked up again, Si had half-turned around and was stepping into pajama pants. Bes saw an unusual scar high up on his thigh. He finished wiping his face and hung up his towel, then peeked around the door to find Si getting back into bed, holding the sides of his pajama shirt together, using the Force to button it.

Bes got back in on his side, took off his legs and moved his knees up on the bed, for once not minding there were no blankets to hide them under. Si stretched down to touch his toes, then pulled up on the top sheet and comforter, tucking them both in. Bes rolled to face him, unable to stop himself from smiling.

“Thank you. It was wonderful.”

“Thank _you_.” Si ran a hand up and down Bes’s arm. “And thank you for accommodating my bad manners.”

“Do you usually draw after sex?” Bes asked. He hadn’t seen Si try to draw, much less paint, in years.

“It’s the only time I still can. Something about how the Force moves stimulates the part of my brain that’s mis-wired.” He yawned. “I’ve asked the healers and there are brain implants that could help, but the risks outweigh the benefits. I’ve done some brain imaging studies. Almost time to do more. They’re tracking the progression.”

Bes pulled Si closer, running his hands over him. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt, but I’m glad I’m not the only one with scars.”

“We’re Jedi, we _all_ have scars.” Si’s hand slid over Bes’s ribs, then down over his hip. “Even Monti. Tripped during a field dig and gashed himself on a pickax.”

Bes laughed. “Were you and Monti lovers?” Like Bes, Monti preferred men.

“No,” Si looked very amused. “I suspect I’m quite the old fogey to Monti. I know because I ran him through his paces before I’d recertify him for fieldwork. It nailed him up near the hip, took a long time for the muscles to regrow and get the mobility back.”

Bes blushed, remembering Si’s reflection. “You have scar there too. I um, saw you in the mirror.”

“Checking out the old man?” Si raised an eyebrow. “Good.” He kissed Bes gently. “You don’t have to be shy about it.”

Bes sent a pulse of warmth through the Force, grateful. “What’s it from? I could guess about most of the others, but that one looked odd.”

“Saber wound. Glancing blow. Hurt like a son of a bitch.”

“How long was it touching you?” Blades on the safety setting could burn but usually didn’t scar.

“Just an instant. Didn’t deflect it well enough. Safety wasn’t on.”

“Why wasn’t— Oh.” Bes realized that despite being a Jedi, he had never seen a lightsaber scar before. Amputations yes, but not scars. Jedi rarely fought each other to the death, and when they did have saber scars it was usually from accidents, torture when captured by non-Jedi and emergency amputations because a limb was entrapped or bleeding out.

With this Sith business, Bes feared this would probably change. Assuming anyone survived the next bout.

“You’ll have to tell me about that later,” Bes yawned, knowing Si was quickly falling asleep.

“Can’t,” Si was breathing into his hair. “Still classified.”

“Thank you for keeping us safe, Si.” Bes felt Si gently squeeze him, warm affection spilling into the Force.

“Thank you for making it home alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILER WARNING** : character engages in sex with dubious consent during a lucid dream, knowing the other person isn't real and can influence their behavior.
> 
> So we had a lot of different pairings in this chapter. Any thoughts? Was the payoff worth it?


	22. Part XXII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kressa and Quinlan try to be good friends and Kressa gains some confidence, Anakin and the initiates take a field trip, Qui-Gon participates, Rence gains some fans and does some admiring, Obi-Wan gets challenged, Yoda questions the initiates and is questioned in return, and Cin guides his knights, advises his master and has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted song lyrics are from the late Bill Wither's _Lean On Me_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOZ-MySzAac
> 
> There is more lightsaber stuff in this chapter. As usual, I hope it makes sense. This chapter also has a lot of characters and moving parts, so I hope it all makes sense too. 
> 
> There are no warnings for this chapter.

_Sometimes in our lives_

_We all have pain, we all have sorrow._

_But if we are wise,_

_We know that there's always tomorrow._

_Lean on me when you're not strong_

_I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on_

_For it won't be long_

_'Til I'm gonna need somebody to lean on_.

\--Bill Withers, _Lean On Me_

“Do you think he’s awake?” Kressa asked as she nervously smoothed her robe. “He got in last night, but I don’t know how late.”

Quinlan turned his head, his ear to the door. “I can hear something.”

The door suddenly half-opened and Obi-Wan peered out, hair damp from a water shower, clearly in his bathrobe. “Yes?”

Quinlan and Kressa shared a look. Kenobi had always dressed formally and proper in their presence.

“We’re going to the saber clinic. Kressa is going to get a number. We wondered if you wanted to come with.”

Obi-Wan blinked at them, trying to decide. “I was just about to get dressed. I can meet you or you can come in. I’ll be ready in ten.”

“We can wait,” Kressa assured him.

Obi-Wan nodded and let them in. “There’s a little tea left if you want any,” he offered as he walked back to his room and shut the door. Quinlan happily took care of the rest of the tea and rinsed the pot while Kressa looked at the friend wall. There were a few new pictures, but Obi-Wan had not been social recently, so there hadn’t been much turnover or additions. Master Yoda’s print seemed to have become a permanent fixture.

“Oh.”

Kressa turned to find Quinlan sitting on the couch with a paper cup of warm tea, a very worried expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?” she asked quietly, stepping closer, wary of being overheard.

Quin had one gloved hand on the couch, clearly sensing something. “He is not doing well, whatever it is.”

Kressa sighed as she sat next to him, not sensing anything herself. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

Quinlan shrugged. Kressa was a stereotypical female in that she was much more attuned to personal relationships than he was (though this could have been due to her diplomatic training, not her gender). He really didn’t know what to do. “No idea. He was laying here, very unhappy. Lonely, lost. Definitely a private pity party.” He slumped against the couch. “Did you find out what the problem is?”

Kressa squeezed his hand and shrugged. “Master Yoda kept it vague, said it was an emotional issue, didn’t want to say more. Master Silvanus seemed to know more details.”

Quin nodded. “Bes asked if he was doing better. He didn’t come out and say what was wrong but seemed to imply it was a matter of the heart.”

Kressa frowned. “He’s got Yoda worried.”

“He’s got _me_ worried.” Quinlan finished his tea and moved to stand up but stopped suddenly when he put his hand on the throw pillow in the corner of the couch. “Huh.”

Kressa glanced at the bedroom door. “What?”

He tossed the pillow in her lap and went to the kitchen to throw out his cup. “What do you sense?”

“In the Force? Nothing. It’s— hmm.”

“Uh-huh.” He came back and sat down. Kressa passed the pillow back and Quin held it in his gloved hands. “Yeah.” He put it back.

“It reminds me of Master Yoda,”

“Yeah, he slept on that cushion during the vigil. Imprinted his presence on it. Obi-Wan’s presence is fainter, but he was holding it during his pity party.”

“Why?”

“Probably for comfort if I had to guess. He has more psychometry than you but not an exceptional amount. I feel it and can see Master Yoda sleeping on it, can get impressions of his emotions and feelings, but for someone like Obi-Wan,” he shrugged. “It probably feels like a hug.”

Kressa looked very concerned. “Why is he doing this to himself?”

“Bes thought it was an attachment issue. If you had an attachment issue, would you want Yoda to know?”

“Ouch.”

The bedroom door opened and Obi-Wan came out groomed and fully dressed for the salle, clipping his saber to his belt. He stilled at their concerned expressions.

“Are you okay, Obi-Wan?” Kressa asked. Quinlan gestured at the couch with his gloved hand, looking guilty.

Obi-Wan looked between the two of them, not sure exactly what they had sensed. “I’ve been better, but I’m managing.”

“You’re starting to seem depressed,” Quinlan replied cautiously.

Kressa looked sad. “You know we’re here for you, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. “I had a bad dream last night and lay down on the couch until I had calmed down enough to meditate. I’ve been discussing my issues with Healer Vygor.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “I know I haven’t been making progress, but I’m managing my emotions and keeping up with my duties, but . . . I know I need to move on.” He stopped, not wanting to say more.

“We’re here for you.” Kressa tried to smile reassuringly. “We can stay here if you want to talk.” Quin nodded in agreement.

“Thank you, no.” Obi-Wan looked as if he wanted to ask what they already knew but was afraid to. “I want to go to clinic. I need a good spar to clear my head and you need to work on your Niman with other opponents.”

“Are you okay to spar?” Kressa asked.

“Yes. I went back to sleep after my meditation. That’s why I was running late this morning.” He peeked in the kitchen and saw Quinlan had cleaned up the tea. “I’m ready to go if you are.”

Kressa and Quinlan shared another look.

“Obi-Wan,” her tone sounded as if it were anyone else, she would have hugged him by now. “You’ve been unhappy for a long time.”

Obi-Wan paused, acknowledging Kressa’s point. “I know. It’s gone on too long. I’ve decided to ask Healer Vygor about alternate coping strategies since mine haven’t been working well. I need to get past this. I don’t want my work to suffer.”

“We don’t want _you_ to suffer,” Quinlan replied.

“I know,” Obi-Wan shrugged. “But . . . until I get over my emotional problems, I will.”

“Is this a _fear-anger-hate-suffering_ thing?” Quin asked.

Obi-Wan squirmed. It was clear he was going to shut down soon. “Fear, yes. Anger at myself. No hate.”

“But there is suffering,” Kressa sighed. “And not just you.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I know. I have an appointment next week.”

“What are you going to do?” Quin asked. Obi-Wan seemed aware of the problem but had not mentioned any strategies.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I have not been able to find a solution through the Force. I may need to transfer. I may need,” he grimaced. “Medication. I know _something_ is wrong, out of balance. I’ve realized I can’t fix it myself.”

“What has the Force told you to do?” Kressa asked. They both knew Obi-Wan sought guidance from the Force in a more sophisticated way than most knights their age.

Obi-Wan looked down. “To keep being miserable.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “Either that or I’m doing something wrong. I’ve continued to seek guidance and the answers haven’t changed. The problem must lie with me. Or I am being challenged and failing.”

“Are you, um, talking with your therapist about that last part, because that sounds like it could be depression talking.” Quinlan could not hide his discomfort. He did not like thinking about how Bes had talked when he had been depressed after his accident, but it was too familiar not to make the connection.

“Yes, extensively.” Obi-Wan began walking to the door, trying to end the conversation. “He has been screening me for depression, particularly as dreams have been intruding on my sleep. It’s quite likely I’m just driving myself crazy and hearing my own mind and not the Force, in which case I should probably be looking for answers in therapy instead of just coping strategies.” He stopped at the door and looked back at them. “Thank you for your concern, but one way or another, I’ll get past this.”

“How do you know?” Kressa pressed.

“Because I have to. I can’t indulge my feelings anymore. I need to be balanced to do my job.”

Kressa and Quinlan reluctantly got up to follow.

“Can’t Master Yoda help?” Kressa asked. “If you’re getting bad answers from the Force, maybe he can figure out what’s going wrong.”

Quinlan bit his tongue. He had sensed Obi-Wan almost desperately wanted Yoda’s guidance (enough that he was hugging a throw pillow) so he must have some reason he was not taking his troubles to his mentor.

“The Grandmaster of the Temple has more important things to deal with than my emotional problems,” Obi-Wan explained. “And if I’m correct, and the Force has only these answers to give,” he grew quiet. “I’ve disappointed him enough in this lifetime. I’d rather not do it again.” He did not look up for a long moment, clearly releasing something painful to the Force. “Well, on that cheery note, let’s please go do something else. I know Vygor’s going to pick at that and I really don’t want to talk about it right now.” He opened the door, holding it for them. “Come on. You don’t need my gloomy mood spoiling your sparring. Are you sure you want me to join you?”

Kressa did hug him this time as she passed. He looked comically surprised. “I don’t think Master Yoda is disappointed in you, but he does miss you. A lot.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I am trying. Maybe that’s the lesson I’m supposed to learn. To accept my failure and live with his disappointment. But I should probably explore other options first.”

“Because your problem isn’t going to go away even if you upset Yoda?” Quin asked.

Obi-Wan nodded as he followed them out and closed the door. “Unfortunately it will not.”

* * *

Anakin put away his Breggle stones and hurried down the hall to meet his classmates. Master K’Trill had said there was something new planned for the session this morning and told them not to be late. Fortunately he was _not_ the last to arrive (those reminder alarms really came in handy), and he even had his ties and sashes straight today. His docent had told him he had passed most of his tests and that he would have to go in front of the Council soon to see if he had learned enough to be promoted to senior initiate (and would therefore be eligible to be selected as a padawan). Most of the other humans were promoted around their eleventh birthdays, but they had many more years to learn than he did, so he shouldn’t feel embarrassed to be a few months late. Anakin had tried very hard not to roll his eyes. He wished the docents and the Council were more like Master Qui-Gon. Then he could have been a padawan already and skipped all the baby stuff.

The last straggler arrived just before the chimes and the docent on duty clapped their hands and announced they were going to the Training Complex. One girl asked if they were supposed to have their practice sabers and was told that no, they were only going to observe, so no sabers and soft shoes were okay. Ani privately thought she wouldn’t be much of a Jedi if she didn’t treat her practice saber like a real one. Master Qui-Gon wore his all the time, he even kept it right next to him when he was stuck in bed with the healers. He didn’t shower with it though.

The docent led them down the halls and through the lifts to the grownup part of the training complex, warning them that they needed to be quiet, polite and to stay in line. This was not a place where they were normally allowed, and any misbehavior could mean they would _all_ go back to the initiate dorms. Ani shut his mouth with effort and reached out with the Force. Fortunately most of his usual tormentors were too cowed by the location and weren’t thinking of him at all.

They walked past the main salle with the giant painting over the door that showed all the lightsaber moves and how the Force moved when people did them. Ani wondered who had painted it, because his class had done an exercise where they tried to draw the Force like that for one move and most of his classmates were really bad at it. It was kind of like when Obi-Wan and Master Yoda were making Force pictures and didn’t have enough stones and colors. Ani was starting to suspect most Jedi didn’t really see the whole Force, just bits and pieces, but whoever made that painting seemed to see a lot more. He wondered if Master Yoda was the artist. Everyone said Master Yoda was the most sensitive of all the Jedi, but sometimes Ani thought he was just the oldest and most ornery.

The docent led them to an empty classroom where Master K’Trill and Master Yoda were waiting for them. Master Yoda indicated everyone should sit and when they were settled, Master K’Trill explained that they were trying something new today and taking the initiates to see the knights and masters at the open saber clinic. Initiates were usually not allowed to attend, but Master Yoda had gotten permission from Battlemaster Drallig (several students muffled giggles at the idea of Master Yoda needing permission), and they were going to sit in the stands and watch. They would be allowed to ask questions but _must_ stay in the stands or leave the hall, they could not go out on the floor.

One student asked what they were supposed to be watching for. They all knew to look for different saber forms when the young knights open-sparred for them, and Master K’Trill always told them what to pay attention to in particular, but no one knew what to expect here.

“Many things in the saber clinic happen. Different lessons on different days.” Master Yoda looked them over from his perch on a chair. “Come to clinic knights and masters do, some questions have, new skills to learn, some want to spar, need partner they do. Never too old, too skilled to learn new things we are. So, what are you to learn you ask,” Yoda looked them over. “Know this I do not. Go we will. Watch we will. Talk quietly we will with others who watching are. Learn something all of us will. See many things we might.” He looked over and caught a warning look from K’Trill. “Ah, almost forgot I did. The most important direction. Many different Jedi to saber clinic go. Some older padawans are. Some knights are. Some masters are. Try their techniques when get home you will not. Learning they are. Make mistakes they will. If skill you see that want to learn you do, ask you must. Attempt by self you will _not_. Understand this you do?”

There was more nervous giggling, but the initiates knew this was serious. There were many things older Jedi did that were not suitable for amateurs.

“Good it is that understand you do. Alright, stand up you will. Line up for exercises. Get the wiggles out now you will so sitting quietly easier will be.”

The class lined up obediently and Master K’Trill led them through some stretches, some jumping jacks, and some of the basic Form I open hand katas. When everyone was warmed up, they stood quietly, doing a breathing exercise, then a simple group meditation that let the masters check to make sure no one was overly emotional today. When all proved well, and everyone was as calm as they were going to get, Master K’Trill lined them up and led them back to the main salle, followed by Master Yoda, then directed them to sit in specially marked rows in the stands. Master K’Trill then left them to go get a number and Master Yoda explained how saber clinic worked and why Jedi attended it.

Master Gi-Ho looked up as their audience swelled in size and waved at Master Yoda. Cin never should have complained about clinic attendance in front of the Grandmaster, but if his plan of making clinic less scary worked, they’d have a glut of new attendees. In fifteen years or so. Maybe Yoda and K’Trill should have started with a junior padawan class instead.

Cin didn’t wave, but he nodded at his former master. He finished up his demonstration of the foot positions for the Seventh Hawkbat Strike, checked that the young knight had the concept, then sent him to another ring to practice before coming over and addressing his young audience.

“Good morning Master Yoda, Initiates.”

“Good morning it is, Master Drallig.” Yoda turned to the class. “Battlemaster Drallig this is. Met him you may not have. Work hard he does, all Jedi train he does, so protect selves and others they can.” He turned back to Cin. “Young students these are, hoping for padawans to be. Work hard they do, always to impress knights and masters they want. Understand they must, always learning a Jedi is, even when a master they are.” He gestured out to the floor. “Who learning with us today is?”

“Hmm,” Cin looked across the salle. “Well, we have several different knights and masters today.” He pointed them out to the initiates as he named them, some already on the floor, others waiting on the sidelines as Gi-Ho made up the schedule. “Master Rence will probably practice today with that double-bladed light staff. We found a few historical guild members who had a little experience, so they might spar together. They’ve never tried to fight staff against staff before. Master Jinn is also here. He is very talented, but was badly injured, so he must relearn how to do things and learn how to compensate for his injuries. Knight Gosi is here; she just finished a workshop and is starting to learn Niman and needs more sparring partners.” He looked over the class. “Who do you usually watch when Master Yoda takes you for open spar?”

The initiates had been warned to be quiet, so they politely raised their hands, even those who tended to just yell out answers.

“Knight Bissar.”

“Master K’Trill.”

“Master Windu.”

“Knight Prosso.”

“Knight Vos.”

“Knight Ellria.”

“Knight Meechi.”

Several hands dropped with each name until Ani’s was the only one still raised. Cin pointed at him.

“Knight Kenobi.”

Yoda gave Cin a significant look. Cin did not visibly acknowledge it.

“Well, you’ll see a few familiar faces then.” He turned to point at the Jedi waiting around the perimeter. “Of course you know Master K’Trill is here, but so are Knights Vos and Kenobi. I don’t know what they are hoping to learn yet, but Master Gi-Ho will come talk to you later. Are there any questions for me?”

Most of the children shook their heads, too young and inexperienced to really understand who the Battlemaster was yet. Ani raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“Why are there padawans here? Master K’Trill said the clinic was for knights and masters to learn.”

“Excellent question. Sometimes senior padawans come to the clinic to observe, just like you are doing now,” he pointed to a young apprentice in the stands, watching his master intently. “Sometimes they are here to help run the clinic, like you do when you get kitchen duty,” he indicated the padawan putting water bulbs on ice. “And sometimes very advanced students come to clinic to gain experience against more difficult opponents than they can in their regular bouts.” He pointed out a young female padawan who was trying to look brave. “It’s Padawan Reva’s first day on the clinic floor today.” He looked back over the salle. “Knight Kenobi used to attend as a senior padawan too. It helped him develop his fighting skills.”

Gobi, one of the taller initiates snorted and mumbled under his breath about defense not being fighting.

Drallig raised an eyebrow. “Master Yoda, do these initiates think Soresu isn’t saber fighting?”

Yoda shook his head. “Young they are still. No field experience they have.”

Cin looked pointedly at the youngling who had made the remark, who stared back, wide-eyed at the scrutiny. “A Jedi who cannot defend themselves and others is a Jedi who has no business being in the field. Knight Kenobi is an excellent Ataru practitioner and honed his skills in the clinic as a padawan but learned in the field it is not sufficient to defend oneself against Sith, which is why he is working so hard to master Soresu. If you think Soresu is not as exciting to watch, consider how little he does move and how he makes his opponents work so much harder. And as Master Silvanus would say, _if you aren’t learning by watching the motions, watch the Force; that’s where the real battle is_.”

The initiates looked up at Cin, puzzled.

“Hee, hee. Too young they are,” Yoda giggled. “Master Silvanus was Battlemaster when Master Drallig young was. A very good teacher he was. Trained Master Drallig to be very good teacher he did. Very wise, yes, to watch the Force, tell you much it can. Watch knights move, feel how the Force flows. Soresu in the Force much more to see there is.”

Several of the younglings looked unconvinced, but initiates in general were drawn to the flashier, fancier tactics, not understanding that what impressed them did not impress potential masters, only wanting to stand out from the pack. Field experience tended to change these attitudes.

“Well then, if there are no more questions now, I have some Jedi to spar with. I’ll come back later in case you have new questions.” Cin nodded at Yoda and went back out onto the floor.

Debap nudged Ani gently to get his attention. “They say the Battlemaster is the best saber fighter in the Jedi. Only the best have a chance of winning against him.”

Ani didn’t mind Debap’s poking. She was generally nice to everyone and didn’t tease or tell fibs. Usually. “Are you sure? I thought Master Jinn was the best.” They both glanced at the master in question who chose that moment to stumble over his own feet. “Well, before he got hurt.”

Debap shrugged. Ever since Kenobi had been knighted, the initiates had all speculated about when Master Jinn would pick a new apprentice. The gossip flowed fast and furious whenever he stopped in to visit Ani, even though he never once attended the saber or hand-to-hand competitions, nor ever really spoke to the other children. Many suspected he might pick Ani, but others held out hope they could impress him. It hadn’t helped the boy make friends, unfortunately.

“I think we’re too young to figure out who the bestest one is,” Debap ventured. “But the older padawans all say Master Drallig is very good and even _masters_ can’t beat him.” She shrugged. “Some of them say Master Jinn fought a Sith and is very, very good, but Master Drallig is a really good teacher.”

“He doesn’t teach little kid stuff like Master K’Trill?” Ani asked. _Little kid_ was less insulting than _baby_ and accurate.

“Master K’Trill teaches grownup stuff too.” Debap watched intently as different knights began to pair off to spar. “Master Drallig teaches everyone if they make it to padawans.” Debap has just been promoted to senior initiate but had done poorly on her first competition in front of the prospective masters. Ani hoped she did better next time. They needed more Jedi who were nice to people.

Out on the floor, Reva had been paired off against Kressa, who was a little leery of a padawan deemed skilled enough to come to clinic. Vos had been paired off with K’Trill, which the initiates were very interested in. Obi-Wan met up with Master Gi-Ho to learn the next Soresu kata on his list before sparring. Cin paired off with Master Nosk, just back from a mission and smarting from a near miss from some blaster shots, looking to improve his Soresu blocks. Cin did suggest the blaster box as opposed to droids, but also recommended Nosk pick up some basic Shien while he was in Temple.

Master K’Trill was holding up well against Vos, and standing up straight, which was quite novel for her students, who watched the bout intently. Master Jinn finished the katas in his rehab program and went over to Daelen to see where he’d be assigned next. To his surprise, Cin had requested he observe Reva, looking for holes in her technique. Qui-Gon accepted this assignment and went to get a water bulb before sitting in the stands. Like himself, Reva had a base in Ataru and was a strong student. It wasn’t the first time he’d been asked to observe and evaluate, but it had been a long time. Before long he was joined by the ever-cheerful Master Bes who was not accompanied by his very tall boyfriend.

“Good morning, Master Jinn,” Bes grinned. “Watching the matches?”

“For now,” Qui-Gon nodded. “Cin asked me to observe.” He peeked at the door, but there was no skulking shadow. “Master Silvanus not joining you today?”

“Not today. He’s meeting with Monti in the Archives. I followed along for a bit, but they were getting thick into statistics and I needed some fresh air.”

“Statistics?”

“Battle and dueling stats. Something for the new curriculum that Monti needed help with. Very dry. Master Si’s trying to help him make it more accessible. The end product should be terrific, but the process is a bit tedious and outside my field.”

“So they’re moving forward on that, are they?”

“Oh yes,” Bes chuckled. “Your name came up more than once, they were hoping to incorporate more clips and live demonstrations, oh my!” Bes stopped short of cheering as Quinlan launched a particularly skilled strike, which K’Trill barely managed to dodge and block. “Good sparring today.”

Kress and Reva turned out to be well-matched, both of them very nervous their first time on the floor. Reva was very aggressive, turning flips, using gravity and the Force to supplement her strikes, but Kressa had sparred with Obi-Wan since before he had started to learn Soresu, so it soon became easier to anticipate her strategy. Kressa kept mostly on the defensive, but when she got an opening, gave the girl a good Force push that shoved her right out of the ring. Reva gave her a look that was half-shocked, half-outraged, as if it had never occurred to her to use such a move in the salle.

“That, that was the Force,” she sputtered. “We’re not supposed to use the Force in anger.”

Kressa raised an eyebrow. “I’m not angry. Are you?”

Reva frowned, looking down at the line where she had been pushed out. “Yes.” She paused. “No, I’m embarrassed.” She looked back up at Kressa. “That was really cool.”

“Niman,” Kressa shrugged.

“Huh.” Mind still a bit blown, Reva released her residual anger and stepped back into the fight. Kressa attacked this time instead of defending and drove Reva across the ring, her Ataru ill-equipped for defense. The girl did eventually get her rhythm back, returning to the offensive position. The duel went back and forth several times before Kressa got in under Reva’s guard. Both of them seemed surprised by this outcome.

“That was all Niman?” Reva asked. “Really?”

“Mostly,” Kressa admitted. “I’m still learning.”

Reva grinned. “We’ll have to spar again sometime.”

“We will,” Kressa agreed. Both women headed back to Daelen to see where they were assigned next.

Cin finished with Nosk, then began running through the consults Gi-Ho sent his way. Nosk headed back to Daelen, who sent him to Gi-Ho for kata work. Rence was tangling with another knight with a lightstaff, and when Vos got back to Daelen, she asked if he would be interested in trying his hand against it. He enthusiastically agreed.

Qui-Gon made notes about Reva, who was then paired up with Rence’s last partner. Reva was fascinated by the double-bladed staff, readily agreeing to half-speed as she tried to figure out how to spar against it.

Obi-Wan had been sent to spar against several older knights who were training to return to the field duty after several years of working as Senate Liasons and letting crucial skills lapse. He was told to be tough on them, keep the tempo up, and take any opening that were reasonable to highlight their lapses. The matches were short, quick and decisive, each knight switching out as their openings were brought to their attention. They improved quickly as their brains called up old skills, and lessons were remembered, but it helped to throw them right into the deep end to start getting them up to speed and pinpoint weaknesses, rather than have them spar against each other with no real bite. Overhead, a droid recorded the bouts so Cin could consult with them later.

The initiates began to group off, each cluster of students following a different match. Many of them found the double-bladed staffs as fascinating as Reva had, and they were especially excited to see Knight Vos engage with it. Ani had watched Reva with Kressa and hoped he too would be a padawan allowed to attend the grownup classes, but when Vos started his match the padawan was all but forgotten.

A few of the students were watching Obi-Wan repeatedly run through the knights. Like Cin, Yoda pointed out how economical Kenobi’s movement were, how the out-of-practice Jedi lunged and dashed about, trying to attack, while Obi-Wan rarely moved more than a half-step, blocking and parrying their blades with compact, minimalist moves, then striking when his opponents gave him the chance. The small group of students alternately watched with their eyes and the Force, surprised at how those seemingly boring moves required quite a lot of Force control to pull off so smoothly.

Obi-Wan took a break after trouncing the knights, who sheepishly did the same in the stands. Yoda led the students in asking them questions about their technique, what they had been doing as Jedi, and why it was so important they get back into fighting form. It was clear that Yoda was encouraging them, not scolding, but also teaching the younglings. One of the more good-natured of the knights played along, engaging the students, and asking if Obi-Wan was a regular on the teaching staff as he hadn’t met him before.

“Hmm,” Yoda was thoughtful. “Not yet. Much field work he does.” He turned to the student who had voiced his disdain for Soresu. “Watch Kenobi with the Force you did. Still boring you think Soresu is?”

Gobi couldn’t help but be impressed by the rapid, repeated defeats. “Maybe. But he used offense too.”

“Used offense he did,” Yoda agreed. “Soresu is a defensive form, waits for openings it does. More exciting you think Knight Vos is when use Djem So he does. Makes openings he tries, waits he does not. Very different forms they are but use one form only in the field most Jedi do not. See that we might if a long bout happens. Use multiple forms they might.”

“Why would you want to wait for an opening?” the boy asked. “Won’t that just take longer?”

“Good question that is. Maybe an opponent very strong, very fast is. Maybe no opening there is until tired they are, until a mistake they make. Maybe many battles to fight there are, energy to conserve they might need. Maybe want to talk with opponent they do, fight to kill not. More options with Soresu there are, but decisive win still happen can.” He winked at the defeated knight, who chuckled back.

“How long has Knight Kenobi been focusing on Soresu? Was it always his main form?”

“A year, a bit more,” Yoda replied. “Qui-Gon Jinn’s padawan he was. Remember the Initiates can when Ataru his form was. More exciting they think it was.”

“Heh, Ataru always sounds like a better idea when you’re young with a spring in your step.” He shook his head. “I’ve gotten too old for it. Master Drallig is evaluating me to see what forms suit me better now.” He looked up at Obi-Wan, who had been passed off to Rence’s last opponent. “Why did he switch to Soresu?”

“Ataru alone a bad strategy against Sith. No defense. Working hard now he is, focusing on Soresu, but more hybrid style in the field he has.”

“Is that going to be enough?”

Yoda looked pointedly at a burn on his sleeve.

He held up his hands. “I never said _I_ could stand up to a Sith. Just wondered why he was going for Soresu, not Shien or Djem So.”

“Simet’s recommendation it was. Build a strong defensive base first. A good foundation to have it is. Pick up Djem So later he will, not other way around. Working well it is.”

“Sure is,” he grimaced at his singed tunics. “Wait, what? Master Silvanus recommended it? I didn’t know he was still alive.”

Yoda looked slightly offended on Si’s behalf. “Still alive he is. Go out much he does not.” He held up a hand, wiggling the fingers. “Difficulties he has.”

The knight sighed. “We need to get him back in here.”

“Hmm,” Yoda’s face had a trace of a smile. “Working on that already we are.”

Kressa was surprised after a bout with a knight (which she lost) to be sent to consult with Master Drallig.

“Carlin, good to see you at clinic.” Cin stretched, having spent the last twenty minutes crouched down, assisting a knight with a foot issue. “Thank you for assisting with Reva, she was very nervous.”

Carlin shrugged. “So was I.”

“Normal, but I promise, we don’t bite. Gi-Ho said you needed more sparring partners and an evaluation to focus your training?”

"Yes. I’ve been following your recommendations from class, but I’m not sure where to go from here.” Kressa hoped that sounded less clueless than she felt. When she showed up, she had expected an evaluation from Daelen or maybe Gi-Ho, not the Battlemaster himself.

“I hear you’ve been working with Master Bes for the Niman tricks?” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a few practice balls and tossed them into the ring.

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Good.” He gave her a rare grin. “Let’s really blow Reva’s mind. She needs to work on her non-saber skills.”

Kressa took a deep breath but smiled back. It was a tall order and with the Battlemaster no less, but Bes had been a good teacher. She saluted her instructor and they were off.

Daelen looked out over the salle, pleased with how today’s clinic was going. Master Gi-Ho was right, coordinating clinic assignments was a great way to meet people, get to know them and see how well their perceived needs correlated to their actual needs. Many Jedi could recognize a symptom or effect but could not identify the root problem. Others wanted to focus on their strengths and ignore weaknesses. Some were hypercritical of themselves, others were blind to their flaws. It was quiet for the moment, so Daelen sent Reva to wait for Master Drallig (and to watch his match with Kressa), then left the table to go to the stands.

“Master Jinn?” she bowed politely.

“Yes?” He could never remember her name. “I’ve been making notes as asked.”

“Thank you,” Daelen smiled. “Master Drallig suggested you might like a spar with Master Gi-Ho or Master Rence. I wanted to check with you before I finish the schedule.”

Qui-Gon frowned. “What’s the objective?”

Daelen leaned down. “He wanted you to have a little fun and they are both challenging at half-speed.” She shrugged. “He also wants to evaluate your range of motion, so we’ll be recording it.”

“Yipee,” Qui-Gon replied, flatly. He had sparred with Gi-Ho last week. “Rence, haven’t sparred with her in years. Assuming she can still use the single blade.”

Daelen snorted. “That was the plan. Master Drallig will come see you after clinic for the evals.”

“Thank you.”

She gave him a respectful half-bow, smiled at Bes, then made her way over to Master Yoda, who was watching the matches and consulting with the younglings.

“Good morning, Grandmaster. I’m finishing up the clinic roster and wanted to make sure we hadn’t missed anything you and your students came here to see.”

“Hmm, see many good matches the students have.” He looked over the salle and his charges. Several of the students were goggling over the impressive Knight Vos squaring off with a double-bladed saber. (Vos was a favorite among initiates, for both his skills and his hair). Master Rence was taking a breather by bringing the double-bladed saber (unlit) over to the stands to show the spectators; both knights and initiates were very interested, not just in how the controls worked but in feeling the crystals. Ani rather liked them when Rence brought it over; both sets of crystals sang, not just together, but to each other, as if they were all parts of the same song.

“Did you build it?” Anakin asked as he reluctantly pulled his hand away.

“Me? No,” Rence chuckled. “This beauty was made by the famous Knight Kanu himself.”

“We learned about him in class,” Debap replied, awed by evidence that a person from their textbooks had actually existed. She turned to Ani. “They really _do_ sing.”

"Oh, I know,” Rence grinned. “I’m going to try to make a single-blade for myself that sings like this, but it’s going to take a while.”

Ani frowned up at her. “Knight Kenobi’s sings like that. Is it really that hard?”

Rence cracked up. “Yes, it’s hard. Mostly it’s time-consuming. The Force doesn’t usually drop perfect groups of stones into our laps. It takes time to figure out which will work together. It takes more time to figure out which will work together well. It takes more time to figure out which will work together very well, and then even more time to figure out how to precisely place them, so they sing their best. And then you have to design the brackets and fittings to hold them just so. So no, it’s not easy. A regular multi-crystal blade is difficult the first time. It’s a little easier if you use the same stone type because you can usually repeat most of the design. But if you really want it to sing like this, you need a lot of patience, and you have to be very precise and careful. And even when you think you have it all right, you still might have to tune it, make fine adjustments,” she held up her rather large hand. “Maybe even use the Force for the tiniest adjustments.” She shrugged. “I know it won’t be as great as this one, but this one is _really_ nice.”

Both initiates nodded, able to feel the difference between the Kanu blades and the examples from class. Ani sighed. It would be hard to wait for knighthood to build a terrific saber, but his new practice saber had been surprisingly challenging for a glorified flashlight. He had done it, and on time, but Master Qui-Gon had been right; it wasn’t as simple as messing around with used parts when you had to design it yourself. So much thinking. So much imagining. So much _math_. When he was done and trying to write his report, all of Obi-Wan’s scribbles in his handbook had made sense. He could do the math, but it was hard to remember it all and do it again for his teachers.

Yoda watched the interactions between the different groups, then reached out with the Force. As often happened, he was focused, but had more than one reason to be at a given place at a given time. He turned back to Daelen.

“Yes, request for Cin I have, if time he has.” He pulled a small flimsy pad and pen from his robe pocket, wrote a very short note, ripped it out, folded it and passed it to Daelen. “Read it you may. Understand Cin will.”

“Yes, Grandmaster. Sure thing.” She took the note back to the table before opening it, half-expecting it to be written in hieroglyphs or an ancient language, or utter chicken scratch.

The penmanship was actually very clear and neat, though it was a bit more fanciful than the textblock used throughout the more technologically advanced parts of the galaxy, more typical of one who had been taught to write when young (as all Jedi were), but who also wrote daily up into their adult life (which many Jedi did not). There were two words on the note:

 _PUSH KENOBI_.

Daelen caught Yoda’s eye and nodded, then added Knight Kenobi to Cin’s roster. When she glanced at the Battlemaster he was just finishing up his consult with Carlin. Kressa looked very intent, while Reva was practically bouncing in excitement.

Daelen hurried over to catch Master Drallig before his next consult and he took the note and nodded, not needing to ask who it was from.  
  
“Add him to the schedule, please.”

“Already did,” Daelen nodded nervously. “He said I could read it.”

Cin snorted. “I think we can accommodate the request.” He stretched. “I was going to ask you to if there was time.”

Daelen glanced between her boss and the Grandmaster. “You know what he’s asking for?” She had a vague idea, but Master Yoda seemed to have something specific in mind.

Cin’s eyes trailed over the initiates, who were quite well-engaged given the duration of the visit. “Yes, it’s something we’ve discussed.” He looked over the floor. “Just don’t put Jinn and Rence on a shared border with us and clear the back half of the salle.” He watched Obi-Wan sparring with another knight, keeping up a solid defense, waiting for his opponent to get tired or careless. “This could get intense.”

“Intense bad?” she frowned. “Should I send the initiates out?”

“Intense good. That’s what Yoda wants them to see. He also wants to see if Obi-Wan rises to the challenge or not.”

“He always has before.”

“Hmm,” Cin looked up to see his next consult arriving. “We’ll see, but I suspect you’re right.’

Daelen headed back to the table, fairly certain she wasn’t seeing the whole picture, but for the moment content with being trusted as much as she was. Nori had assured her that Master Yoda could be cryptic at times, but it wasn’t meant to be exclusionary, and when he needed her help and discretion, he would be more straightforward. Very often he was simply trying to protect the privacy of someone else. As an instructor Daelen could relate.

Qui-Gon Jinn squared off against Rence, and found he rather enjoyed it. Rence had had ample experience with being treated like a fragile invalid and she didn’t act as if he were going to break if he got hit with a saber on the safety setting. (He suspected she wasn’t using her full strength in her strikes, but she was taking her strategy and form seriously, so he didn’t feel coddled).

He was finally starting to feel steadier on his feet, although he didn’t know if this was due to his body finally getting stronger and adjusting to the physical changes or his mind finally getting clear and finding balance again. He had been off kilter since his injury (and could now admit he wasn’t all that balanced before that). It had been so long it had started to feel normal. Balanced was better than normal, but it was an adjustment all the same.

Cin had been discussing different lightsaber forms with him when he stopped into his rehab sessions, obviously concerned that his hampered mobility was limiting his effectiveness in Ataru. It was difficult to accept, he had been an Ataru master for _decades_ , despite his size, and while he could grudgingly admit to needing a better defense in general, he was loathe to change his base form, particularly at his age. Cin had made some rumblings about Soresu or Shien, or even Makashi (and didn’t _that_ make him feel like an old man) as opposed to Niman and Djem So. Right now the Shii-Cho katas his rehab coaches had him using were challenging enough to help rebuild his aging body, but they were getting rather boring. He didn’t think Soresu suited his personality, it felt far too passive, but Shien was less unpalatable. Even he could admit he was not ready for Djem So, the very idea of it made his chest ache. (Well, ache more). At least it wasn’t Niman.

The match with Rence went well, and he could feel Anakin’s eyes on him as he fought, cheering him on to the end if not victory. The boy didn’t seem to mind he was going at half-speed, in fact he was taking the opportunity to watch him more closely, and Qui-Gon pushed to keep his form clean, to reach for the subtle details he had been ignoring in his Shii-Cho sessions. He was still very concerned that no one was jumping at the chance to be Anakin’s master, but now that he resolved to be honest with himself, the Force was not pushing him to be Anakin’s master either. Mace had said knighthood was just one possible path, just as it was for any initiate. Anakin’s path was unclear, but Qui-Gon was coming to see that perhaps he wasn’t the best judge of these things. But for now he was sparring, and he released his anxieties and did his best to make sure his one-boy cheering section was justified.

Rence danced and spun around him, putting him on the defensive against her deft Djem So. She did highlight his weak defense (not that his offense was all that great at the moment either), and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he could see the appeal of the small, compact motions of Soresu. Unfortunately, in order to effectively use Form III, one had to be prepared to strike, to make those expansive movements, to drive the attack when the opportunity presented itself. It would be all too easy for him to rely on the small movements until all he could do was defend himself into a corner. (Or herd, he supposed. He had looked it up, apparently it really was a _thing_ ). Regardless he would have to adapt or retire. He really didn’t want to retire. There was too much wrong swirling around them to stop fighting. And if he did, he’d probably end up in the rest home with Master Silvanus as a neighbor, which would be its own hell.

Eventually Rence got under his guard, even at half-speed in a move neither of them could deny. The initiates were still being relatively quiet, but there were both muffled cheers and groans. Qui-Gon was used to being sought after by the younglings, but Rence was quite amused to have developed a following after showing the students the double-bladed staff.

“Good match,” Qui-Gon doused his blade and stretched, pleased with how Rence had pushed his limits without aggravating his injuries, nor patronizing him.

“You’re improving,” she told him. “Even during the match you got steadier and you had more strength in your strikes. And you’re much more focused than you were last week.”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I’ve been working out some issues.”

“I can tell.” She began walking toward the water station. Qui-Gon followed, feeling parched. “It’s hard getting through injury and illness. As much mental as physical sometimes. Chips away at our identity.”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon realized his therapist _and_ his rehab coach had been saying similar things, but he had been dismissing them. Maybe he had been more of an ass than he would have liked to admit.

The two of them ended up leaning against the wall, casually watching the matches while they rehydrated. One of the knights Obi-Wan had soundly trounced had joined them. Out on the floor, Quinlan Vos was in quite an exciting match with Knight Creigiss, Carlin was going over a kata with Master Gi-Ho, Master Nori was wiping the floor with another knight, Noxa was correcting Reva’s technique where she hadn’t been holding her saber correctly, and K’Trill was leading a group of knights in focusing drills that Qui-Gon was fairly sure were in Makashi, which one didn’t often see. Obi-Wan had actually lost a match to Master Belzen, but it had happened before and they were talking quietly, Obi-Wan learning from his mistakes and miscalculations. Belzen was from a species whose nerves quite literally ran faster than standard humans, so she was especially challenging to train against, and Obi-Wan generally enjoyed the matches despite frequent defeats.

Rence laughed suddenly, quite loudly, and tapped Qui-Gon on the shoulder. “Hell if I know, you should probably ask Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon looked over to see the mousey young knight blushing. “Ask me what?”

Rence gestured toward the salle floor. “She wants to know if he’s available and if she stands a chance.”

Qui-Gon looked across the floor and saw Vos and Cregiss run across the floor, past Reva and Noxa in the next ring. “Who? Vos?”

“No!” Rence shook her head and lowered her voice before the young knight burned a hole in the salle floor with her saber just to have an escape route. “Kenobi. You’d know better than I would.”

He looked up again and Obi-Wan was leaning against the opposite wall just as they were, rehydrating and resting before his next bout. With the beard shaved and his hair shorter than it had been he was much more recognizable, even at this distance. “Um,” he glanced at the knight, who looked hopeful. “I tend to stay out of his business.”

Rence rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t know either, but you’re the second person to ask me if he’s available. All I know is he’s not sleeping with _me_.”

“I really don’t know more myself,” Qui-Gon admitted.

Rence shrugged at the mousey knight. “He was his master, I figured he’d know.”

Qui-Gon looked the knight over. She was younger than he was, but at least a decade older than Obi-Wan. Fairly plain looking, but lightly built, she was more feminine than Rence would be if they were dressing up. Still, she would never be a Satine.

“He tends to keep that sort of thing private, so you’d have to ask him.”

“Who else was asking?” the knight asked nervously.

“Gi-Ho.”

Qui-Gon almost choked on his water as the knight wilted. “Kata Master Gi-Ho?”

Rence snorted. “He wasn’t asking for dating purposes. I think he and Nori had some sort of bet going and were trying to calculate odds.”

“Oh,” the knight brightened.

Qui-Gon looked at Rence, then back at Obi-Wan, then over the crowd. The younger knight wasn’t the only spectator who was very interested in his former padawan, but Obi-Wan, as usual, hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Gi-Ho’s a little old for him, anyway.” The optimistic gambler in him wondered how many credits he could make off this bet, while the part of him resolved to be less of an ass thought it best to stay out of it.

“Gi-Ho’s younger than _you_ are,” Rence pointed out. It was generally assumed among Jedi that masters had bedded their former padawans of the same species, regardless of sexual orientation. S-training was S-training. There had been much more speculation about Cin’s S-training.

The mousy knight was weighing odds of her own. “He’s at least thirty, right?”

“Twenty-seven,” Qui-Gon corrected.

The knight blushed in surprise. “He’s very skilled for his age.”

Rence snorted again but didn’t comment about her companion not being the best judge of that. “He’s very dedicated to learning his new base form.”

The knight sighed, trying to be realistic about her chances. “He’s quite handsome.”

“He’s a looker,” Rence agreed. “I’d do him if he were interested.”

Qui-Gon decided it was probably safer to stop drinking water around Rence. “Really?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Qui-Gon shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “I, um, thought you were a lesbian.” Judging from the surprised look on the knight’s face he hadn’t been the only one.

Rence rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t limit myself to just women.” She looked back over the salle. “He’s got a tight butt and gorgeous eyes. What’s not to like?”

Qui-Gon had to agree, not that he would be acting on it. “He did grow up into an attractive adult.”

“And his saberwork is very good too,” the knight ventured, not knowing Kenobi well enough to say much more.

“His saberwork is _hot_ ,” Rence declared. “If we’re lucky, Cin will have a match with him.” She looked across the salle, eyes narrowed. “Mama likes a good Soresu man,” she purred.

Qui-Gon glanced back at the two of them as the knight erupted into giggles. “You think Soresu is sexy?”

Rence growled suggestively. “Oh yeah. No outlandish posturing or displays, just straightforward precision. They are so _focused_.”

Qui-Gon really couldn’t see it himself, but then he tended to appreciate skills in general as opposed to specific forms. And it was _Soresu_. “You really think Soresu is more . . . stimulating than Ataru or Djem So?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Rence looked appreciative as Quinlan Vos pushed his opponent past them in an aggressive attack. “I do Djem So, I have every appreciation of the more offensive forms. And seriously, Cin can still push Kenobi into aerials, and that _is_ a thing of beauty to watch, but Soresu is hot. Very controlled, very focused, you can feel their eyes on you, analyzing you, really seeing you for who you are and how you fight, seeing not only your mistakes, but when you are holding them off, when you can’t be taken down. _Hot_.”

The mousy knight looked across the way, intrigued by Rence’s perspective. “That is rather hot.” She considered how fast Kenobi had bested her, repeatedly, and blushed, suddenly interested in her water bulb.

“Well then,” Qui-Gon looked around the salle. Several Jedi were practicing Soresu, no doubt shoring up skills since Drallig had begun running his newest seminar. “You have plenty of prospects.”

Rence crossed her arms, following his gaze. “These clowns and newbies? Don’t be ridiculous. Any Jedi can learn Soresu. Every Jedi _should_ learn basic Soresu. It might save their life. But few truly _master_ Soresu. When they master Soresu, that is hot.”

“Like who?” the knight asked. Qui-Gon felt he was a fairly good judge of both saberwork and male sex appeal but couldn’t think of anyone specific who fit the criteria.

“Cin. Though he doesn’t use it exclusively, you can see that focus when he uses other forms. Master Grello, certainly. Master Poosh. Knight Hiller. Knight Agio. Or if you really want the classic example, Master Silvanus.”

Qui-Gon was starting to find Rence disturbing.

“I’ve never gotten the chance to meet him,” the knight admitted.

“He was here a few weeks back,” Rence told her. “Too old to spar, but he came out on the floor, corrected forms, ran some drills. Still had that keen eye, that laser focus, sizing up students just like he used to size up opponents. He even took out one young snot with a Niman ball. Gave me chills.”

“I never really understood the attraction to Master Silvanus,” Qui-Gon admitted. “He was very talented, very intelligent, but he was a grouch, too solidly built and big-boned to be pretty, and not masculine enough to go the other way.”

Rence burst out laughing again. “Master Yoda once showed me some pictures of Master Silvanus when I was nursing a very embarrassing crush and he was still the Battlemaster,” she confessed. “Despite the big nose, he was very much a _pretty boy_ when he was young. He had a classic dancer’s body before he became Battlemaster. Yoda used to chase him down with crickets and protein shakes, even when he was made a master. He bulked up later, but still stayed flexible enough for dance.” She smiled wistfully. “He danced with me once. It was at the Senate Ball, and he was getting swarmed by people who wanted to be seen with _the Jedi who is on the holonews_. He asked me to dance, even though I was the stoutest woman in the room and thanked me for rescuing _him_. His regular dance partner was on a mission and I was too polite to grope him.”

“He was supposed to be a great dancer,” the knight sounded intrigued.

“Oh, he was. I asked him later why he asked me,” Rence shrugged, self-deprecatingly. “I know I’m not a _conventionally attractive_ woman. I thought he’d say so the paparazzi would stop filming him or because he wanted all the women after him to think he was gay.”

“What did he say?” Qui-Gon asked. He would have thought the same thing, honestly.

“He said I was one of the few who noticed he was uncomfortable, and he knew I could do the Corellian Cha-Cha.” She smiled again. “He danced like he used to spar. Very focused, very intense. Like I said, a Soresu man.” She glanced back at Kenobi, who was now in deep conversation with Carlin. “Kenobi’s still young, but he’s developing that focus and mental stamina. And he was formidable in the salle when he was based in Ataru. So yeah, _hot_.”

“Hmm.” The knight watched as Obi-wan and Kressa interacted, the young, bubbly blonde casually touching him. “I don’t have a chance, do I?”

Rence shrugged. “Jerrold said they’re just friends. Kenobi didn’t go for Vos either.”

The knight watched Vos dash across the salle again. “Really?” she asked, incredulous. “Who _does_ he want?”

 _He doesn’t want anyone. Not the way you want him_.

Qui-Gon held his tongue. This was Obi-Wan’s path to navigate. His therapist had stressed that this was no longer his business and he had no standing to interfere. However, that didn’t mean he wasn’t as curious as the next Jedi. He had spent more than a decade riding herd on Obi-Wan’s non-existent sex life. Part of him had still half-expected Obi-Wan to go wild as soon as he was no longer under Qui-Gon’s supervision, opening the floodgates and indulging himself with the beautiful people who had been lusting after him for years. Another part of him expected Obi-Wan would not, that his apparent disinterest was not just his padawan’s determined attempt to please him, but a sign of something deeper, of something fundamentally wrong with him.

It wasn’t as is Obi-Wan had never showed interest or attraction to others. There were a few over the years: Cerasi, Satine, Greval. But he had never acted on it, even when Qui-Gon had hoped he would just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. Qui-Gon could remember being a teenager himself, could remember how difficult it was to wait, to keep his activities solo when he could see, could _feel_ the Living Force humming through all the attractive, powerful people around him. He could accept Obi-Wan had simply been a less horny teenager, too strait-laced or oblivious to the Living Force to contemplate pushing the boundaries of his padawan vows. But even people utterly blind to the Force had active, vibrant sex lives, took joy in their bodies. Obi-Wan didn’t. Even now, two years later, it seemed he still had not.

Qui-Gon had finally started discussing with his therapist not only his own reluctance to deal with Obi-Wan’s sexual development, but Obi-Wan’s failure to develop at all. He could admit now that Obi-Wan had baffled him, that he wouldn’t have known _how_ to do right by him in this, even if he had wanted to. He knew Obi-Wan had had a child’s love for him, had looked on him the way Anakin did, with a healthy dose of hero worship. He also knew that Obi-Wan had respected him and was grateful to be his padawan, probably too much, and that he had used that to manipulate him during his apprenticeship. He could also be fairly confident that he was also on that short list of people that Obi-Wan had shown attraction to, but Obi-Wan had never come on to him, hadn’t tried to seduce him like Xan, nor flirted with him like Feemor. It was as if he had known it would be unwelcome, or maybe he had known it would hurt.

Qui-Gon glanced at Yoda, sitting in the stands, watching over both his charges and the salle. Yoda had tried to tell him Obi-wan had loved him, in his own platonic way. Since he had started to remember how the fight with the Sith had ended, he could no longer deny it, even if he couldn’t understand it. His wound had emotionally gutted Obi-Wan, had devastated him, had scarred him. His master had been the most important person in his life, even though they hadn’t even done so much as kiss. He had felt that love, even as Obi-Wan was trying to release it to the Force, afraid it would interfere with the brilliant Light he was trying to drive into Qui-Gon’s dying body.

His therapist explained that Obi-Wan loved differently, but that didn’t make it less valid, or less real. It didn’t make his rejection less painful.

“Ooh!” Rence tapped both him and the knight. “Cin called him up!”

Qui-Gon looked up to see Obi-Wan heading toward the back half of the salle and Drallig stretching, likely preparing for an open spar. “Do they spar often?”

“Regularly, but not every time. Cin makes the weaker fighters a priority, but he likes to check in on Kenobi’s progress.” Rence began walking back toward the stands to get a good seat. Qui-Gon and the knight trailed behind her.

“Care to spar?” Cin asked as Kenobi entered the ring. As Battlemaster it was well within his powers to order Obi-Wan to spar, but he preferred to ask. Obi-Wan usually agreed unless he was too physically exhausted, but even if he weren’t up to sparring, he would always take him on the offer of his time, either for an exercise, a drill or a consult. It could be argued that Obi-Wan spent a bit too much time on his saberwork (and Cin had noticed an increase recently that corresponded to the internal conflict that was worrying Yoda), but Obi-Wan had always been a motivated saber student, even before the the Sith. His progress in Soresu was exceptional, though not surprising given his talents and efforts. Still, like all Jedi, Kenobi needed balance. Cin was less concerned that his difficulties would compromise his saberwork than his dedication came at the sacrifice of other needs.

“Yes, thank you Master Drallig,” Obi-Wan nodded his head respectfully, keenly aware that Cin’s time was limited. He considered each spar a privilege. For his part, Cin relished the challenge Kenobi presented. The young man still had a long way to go, he still had so much potential, but even now Cin had to work just a little bit harder every time they sparred. He knew that one day he would lose and was looking forward to it.

“You ready to try with your new saber?” Cin grinned at him, hoping Obi-wan would step up to the challenge.

“Is it going to clang?” Obi-Wan asked, still slightly unnerved from last time.

“No,” Cin chuckled. Like most of the teaching staff, he had multiple personal weapons. “I tend to use my Kanu-tuned blade in the field, rather than wear it out in the salle. Keeps things less noisy.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, then lifted his multi-crystal hilt in salute, signaling he was ready. Cin began to move, his own weapon still on his belt and the bout was on.

Most of the initiates had been focusing on Knight Vos’s match, but the sound of rapidly moving sabers soon redirected their attention to the back half of the salle. Master Drallig was dueling with Knight Kenobi and it was far more intense than any of the bouts they had seen so far. The Battlemaster was driving Kenobi all the way across the salle, his attack strong and sure and very fast. Obi-Wan backed off, letting the master follow him, but putting up a solid defense, not letting his opponent past his guard.

“Wow,” Debap’s eyes followed the two combatants back and forth. “Can you see them in the Force, Ani?”

Anakin was equally entranced. He had seen drills, open spars, exercises and katas, but never anything like this. Even Master Qui-Gon facing off with the Sith on Tattooine wasn’t like this, mainly because he had been told to run and it had been over so quickly.

Both Obi-wan and Master Drallig were channeling the Force, but both of them were drawing on the Light, neither one feeling cold like the terrifying Zabrack. The Light seemed to come from inside them, but also from outside, from the room, from the Temple, from the air, and it grew stronger as the match continued. Master Drallig had pushed Obi-Wan around the ring, Obi-Wan moving backward, but now he went on the attack, pushing back, driving his opponent diagonally across the space. His Ataru wasn’t as grand or expansive as it used to be, but it was effective, aggressive and graceful. Cin let him try several different attacks before going back on the offensive, pleased when Obi-Wan seamlessly switched forms and began to retreat, his defense solid and tight, movement minimized. Cin could feel the increased strength in his strikes and the more focused precision in his blocks. He had clearly grown into his new lightsaber. It was time to kick it up a notch like Master Yoda had requested.

Cin switched from ground based Ataru to Djem So and stepped up the speed and aggression, pushing him back across the salle and over the line. He was preparing to box Kenobi in when the knight turned suddenly, ran up the wall and flipped over him, his saber slashing down like lightning. Cin bit back a curse but was able to turn fast enough to block it. He’d seen Kenobi do complex aerials many times before, but he usually wasn’t confident enough to throw himself _over_ the Battlemaster. Cin could hear quiet cheers from the stands and a loud hoot from Gi-Ho. The Kata Master was welcome to try to do better.

Obi-Wan landed ready to continue, not giving an opening before he was back on the defensive. Cin pushed him back in the other direction, for the moment grateful there were no walls for him to bounce off of.

Ani watched in the stands, open-mouthed when Obi-Wan flipped over Master Drallig, amazed he didn’t just use his muscles to launch himself, but also the Force. It was like flying without a speeder, but as cool as the move was, he never stopped focusing on his adversary and the match never stopped. “That is wizard,” he whispered, awed as Master Drallig heightened his attack again. They had been at the clinic all morning and Master Drallig hadn’t sparred like this, not even against other masters. The Force had moved and danced with the other Jedi, but now it flashed, pulsed, crackled like a living thing. This was sparring on a whole new level.

Yoda watched both Kenobi and Skywalker with the Force, monitoring Obi-Wan’s performance and Anakin’s reactions. So often the child’s inherent talents made him bored with the basic lessons and unwilling to engage. Yoda knew from experience this could lead to only a surface understanding, without the deeper knowledge Jedi training required. It reminded him of Xanatos, who was also quite talented and worldly, but not wise. Exposing Anakin to Adult Breggle had opened his eyes to what one could do with a deeper connection to the Force. He hoped that exposing the boy to higher caliber sparring would have a similar effect, and perhaps also give him a fresh perspective. Anakin held Master Jinn up as his standard and ideal, a hero that no one could ever compare to. With Qui-Gon still recovering from his injuries, Anakin only had his imagination and gossip to fill in a picture of what Qui-Gon Jinn was really like and what it meant to be a Jedi. Seeing the young knights open spar was good for most of the initiates, but Anakin needed to see more for that deeper understanding.

Yoda sighed. If Anakin’s talents had been average, this flaw would have him fast-tracked to the Service Corps by now, but Anakin had not been raised in the Temple and a farmer’s life would likely not be stimulating enough for someone with that kind of power. Fortunately, the visit to clinic seemed to have fully captured his attention and his imagination.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows as Cin pushed Obi-Wan into another aerial to avoid getting boxed in but this time when he landed, he turned the tables, going on the offensive and pushing back. Drallig turned, now on the defensive and let Obi-Wan chase him back across the ring, quite pleased by the attack. It was clear the knight had been sparring with Vos and Rence because his attack style was no longer pure Ataru, now incorporating a few of the Djem So strikes that were suited to his build. Master Si had been right, as usual. A good foundation in both offense and defense was letting him build his own style much more effectively than studying Niman.

Cin switched back to the offensive, but this time choosing a Makashi style attack, knowing Kenobi had little experience with this form, not only because it was rare among the Jedi, but because Qui-Gon Jinn truly detested it. Obi-Wan backed off immediately, putting space between them to give himself a chance to see the unfamiliar moves. He maintained a cautious distance, able to keep up with the precise footwork, but flummoxed by the greater reach of the one-handed saber strikes.

The two of the danced back and forth, more distance between them, Obi-Wan having to rely more on his Ataru jumps and leaps to keep out of the way. Cin pressed him on, chasing him around the ring while he blocked, keenly observing him, analyzing the moves. Eventually Obi-Wan resolved to try to defend himself more than just run and tried to switch back to Soresu. He slowed his retreat, still letting Cin come to him, but putting up a defense, parrying more than retreating, trying to actively engage his opponent. The light, quick moves of Form II made it hard for him to defend himself effectively, the strikes pulling back so fast and coming in again almost before he had blocked it, almost bouncing off his own blade. Cin dashed back and forth, advancing and retreating, while Obi-Wan held his ground, holding off the blows but clearly getting tired. Cin kept up the quick attacks, sometimes feinting, and Obi-Wan put up a good defense, but he was slowing down, not quite as elegant as when he was fresh. Cin moved in for the kill, and masked his surprise when Obi-wan rather gracelessly did manage to block the first blow, but not the second, the blade burning into his thigh before another hard blow knocked him to his knees and got under his guard.

“Yield?” Cin asked, trying to remember the last time he had actually singed Kenobi in the salle. He had probably still been a padawan.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan doused his blade, never taking his eyes off Cin’s saber until it too was deactivated.

“Good match,” Cin offered him a hand up. “How’s the leg?”

Obi-Wan stood up and picked cautiously at the burned fabric, but the blow had been shallow, burning his pants and his pride more than flesh. “A little warm. That was Makashi?”

Cin nodded, practically hearing the gears in Obi-Wan’s head as he planned to make a study of defense against Form II. “Yes. You held up well. Your Soresu is coming along well and you’re integrating offense and defense well.”

“But not against Makashi.”

Cin patted him on the back. “You’re doing well, Obi-Wan. Enjoy the moment.”

They both turned around to leave the ring, only to be greeted by enthusiastic applause from the stands, not just from the initiates but from the knights and masters as well. Even Qui-Gon Jinn was clapping slowly. Rence whistled, loudly. Kressa smirked at Quinlan, fairly certain what they would be doing tonight.

“They shouldn’t be impressed,” Obi-Wan whispered. “It’s not enough.”

“It’s enough for today.” Cin nodded, acknowledging the applause, nudging Obi-Wan to do the same. “Next clinic, see Gi-Ho or Daelen for Form II opponents.”

Obi-Wan made a point of giving Cin a formal bow. “Thank you for the gift of your training and counsel.”

Cin bowed back, though not as low. “Thank _you_ for making me work harder.”

* * *

“That was so awesome!” one of the initiates exclaimed as soon as they left the training center and behavior standards were relaxed. K’Trill and Yoda shared a pleased look.

“The double-bladed lightstaff was so _cool_ ,” said another, already wondering if they could build one when they were a padawan.

“Master Drallig was really, really good,” Debap smiled at Ani as she walked beside him. “But I still don’t know who the bestest is.”

“Me neither,” Ani admitted. That last match with Master Drallig and Obi-Wan had been like nothing he had ever seen before, with lightsabers or with the Force. It was like a podrace where he wasn’t the only one the Force was speaking to. Both combatants were drawing on the Light, and the Light was answering both of their calls, not just one. They were competing in the sparring match, but they didn’t seem to be fighting for the Force. It was as if the Force liked both of them. It was also very clear that despite the intensity of the bout, they were still friendly, if not friends. There was no animosity, no rivalry, just mutual respect. And the match itself was amazing. Obi-Wan was still using mostly Soresu, but he could still fly through the air, moving his own body with the Force the way he moved Breggle stones, and always landing steady on his feet like they tried to get Anakin to do in Tumbling. When Master Jinn had been ill, Obi-Wan had tried to explain how the many classes he would have to take built a strong foundation and taught him skills required to learn more difficult techniques. In just that one match, Obi-Wan and Master Drallig had used skills his teachers had covered in Saber Building, Saber Drills, Tumbling, Saber Theory, Telekinesis and even that dorky dance class.

“Do you know if Knight Kenobi is looking for a padawan?” Debap asked. When the girl had done poorly at her first competition, too nervous to attack her opponent, one of the bullies had taunted her, saying Knight Kenobi would be the only knight who might consider her as a padawan. After the match, Obi-Wan was suddenly a much more interesting prospect. Anakin was about to tell her that he didn’t know, that he knew Master Qui-Gon much better, but they were passing Master Yoda on their way into the dorms and the venerable master answered first.

“Not yet. Still learning to be knight he is.”

Yoda looked over the small group of younglings gathered around the stool he was perched on. “Take a padawan before he is ready he will not. Very careful he is, just like in Soresu, strike he does not until opportunity presents itself does.” He glanced at the young boy who had been so derisive of Soresu earlier. “Still think Soresu not real fighting you do?”

“Well,” Gobi frowned. “What he did was really neat when you watched the Force, but when he fought the Battlemaster he attacked too. He didn’t use _just_ Soresu.” He looked around at his peers for support. “And he still lost.”

“Hmm, correct you are. Lost he did. Why lose did he?”

The students looked to each other, not sure. Debap cautiously raised a hand. “Because Master Drallig used a form Knight Kenobi didn’t know?”

“Hmm,” Yoda looked at her carefully. “Yes, part of reason, yes. Good eye you have.” He looked them over. “Why else?”

“Because Master Drallig is a better swordsman?” suggested another.

“Hmm, better why?”

“Because he’s a master?”

“Hmm, so win against a master Knight Kenobi cannot?”

Another child frowned. “He beat Master Ludi once, when he used Ataru.”

“That’s right, won he did.” A first win against a member of the teaching staff usually earned a knight a drink at Slo Min’s. Obi-Wan’s first win had been while a senior padawan against the same master, so he’d celebrated at the soda shop, not the tavern. “Why else?”

“Because Master Drallig is the Battlemaster?”

“What and?”

“Master Drallig is better at saber fighting?”

“Why?”

Ani was about to say because he was the Battlemaster before he realized this was circular logic. He thought back on the battle, and about Master Qui-Gon. “Because Master Drallig is older and more experienced?”

“Ah, yes, much more experience Master Drallig has,” Yoda nodded at Anakin. “Expect to lose, Obi-Wan should?”

The students pondered this new question. They had seen many bouts over the morning.

“Master Drallig didn’t lose any matches,” another student said quietly. “And he’s the Battlemaster. Yes, he should.”

“Hmm, but fought anyway he did,” Yoda smiled at them. “Why fight if lose he probably will?”

“Because he’s learning?” Debap suggested.

“Because it’s challenging?” another asked.

Ani listened carefully, the Force tickling at his mind. “Because someday he won’t?”

Yoda turned to him, gaze sharp, and Anakin thought perhaps he should have kept his mouth shut. “Hmm, feel that you can, yes? Good. Listening to the Force you are.”

K’Trill chuckled. It was certainly possible.

“Spars with Master Drallig Knight Kenobi does because learn something new in every match he does. Very good teacher Master Drallig is, very good student Knight Kenobi is. Still learning he is, even when a knight he is. Saw Master Drallig spar in different matches you did. Win fast did he or take his time did he??”

“Both,” Debap had found the Battlemaster fascinating. “Sometimes he had short matches and sometimes he just taught lessons and sometimes they went for a long time.”

“Easy was he on Knight Kenobi or hard was he?”

“Hard,” several students chorused. They could clearly see the last match was more difficult.

“He was,” Yoda agreed. “Why so hard on Knight Kenobi was he?”

The students were all quiet, thinking over what they had seen. Anakin thought about all the instructors he had had, both at the Temple and back on Tattooine. He remembered the first time his teacher had put him in the driver’s seat of a pod.

“Because he’s good at saber work and he needs a harder challenge?” Anakin asked.

Yoda was still a moment, feeling a very minute shift in the Force. Very, very small. Barely noticeable now. But like a small seed that could grow into a tall tree, this tiny thought now might bring big change later.

“Hmm, yes. True this is.” He glanced back between Anakin and Gobi. “An exciting match doesn’t mean a better player one is. Also in Soresu, still a beginner Knight Kenobi is. Pushed harder he was because very skilled he is. One of the best young knights he is in saber work. Someday, a great master he might be. See that Master Drallig can. Push him harder he does, so reach his full potential he can.” He looked at the doubter. “Boring think him you do, but very skilled he is. More interesting he will be as learn how to see you do.”

Yoda glanced back at Anakin. “Learning you are. Pay attention you did. Good job.” He nodded at the group, dismissing the class. Students who still had questions lingered, waiting their turns.

“Is Master Drallig looking for a padawan?” Debap wasn’t the one who asked, but she looked interested.

“Hmm, rare for Battlemaster to take a padawan it is, many duties they have, but still possible it is. Looking he is not, but an open mind he has.”

“What was the form Master Drallig was using when Knight Kenobi lost?” Debap asked. “He kept moving his feet like this,” she demonstrated the shuffle quite nicely.

“Makashi, Form II. Rarely used these days, good to practice for moving feet.”

The students nodded. They had read about it in their texts and done some of the drills but could not recall seeing it demonstrated in open spar.

Anakin waited until the other children had had their questions answered and he was the only one left.

“A question you have?” Yoda asked, feeling the Force carefully. Skywalker was still afraid of him but was starting to realize the wrinkled green master wasn’t planning to squash him like a bug.

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Anakin frowned, trying to figure out how to ask. “The other initiates say that Knight Kenobi isn’t strong in the Force, and I asked Master Qui-Gon, but he didn’t really answer.” He paused again. “When you told us to watch the Force . . .”

“Hmm,” Yoda nodded. “Pay attention you did. Tell you what the Force did?”

Anakin thought back to what he had seen, trying to decipher it. “He was very bright sometimes and sometimes not. When he moved, the Force moved too. And a lot, sometimes. And when he used the Force,” Anakin moved his arms in intricate patterns. “The Force moved different than for the other knights. It was . . . fancier.”

“Hmm, more focused?”

“Yes,” Anakin nodded. That was part of it.

“More complicated?”

“Yes!” That was the word. “Like when the dance teacher dances, and she does more stuff than when we try to copy her.”

“Hmm, good observations you have. Greatest strength in the Force the greatest Jedi makes not. Attuned to the Force one must be. Focused one must be. Work hard Obi-Wan has. Very focused he is. Very attuned for his age he is. Use the Force very effectively he does.”

Anakin nodded. This made sense.

“As for strength,” Yoda shrugged. “Tell you what the Force does?’

Anakin was starting to feel like he should have expected that. “He wasn’t the strongest Jedi there, but he wasn’t the weakest. And he didn’t need to be the strongest to win.”

Yoda blinked, trying not to react as Anakin processed this thought and the tiny shift in the Force moved bit more. “A good lesson to learn that _is_. Strength in the Force, a big help that is. Replace hard work, practice, focus it will not. Strength in the Force everything is not. How use it you do more important it is.”

“He feels stronger when he uses the Force,” Anakin puzzled over it. “When he’s sparring and when he plays Breggle with you.”

“Hmm, yes. Like that always he has been.” Yoda looked Ani in the eye. “Different he is. Not bad if different he is. Just different.”

Anakin looked at Yoda, cautious. “I’m different.”

“You are.” Yoda looked down at himself. “Different too I am.”

Anakin looked as if he didn’t believe him. “You didn’t want me to be a Jedi because I was different.’

“Hmm, not everyone a Jedi should be,” Yoda conceded. “Sometimes different means the Jedi life a bad match is. Sometimes different means a bigger risk training is.”

“Master Qui-Gon said you thought training me was risky.”

“Yes, a risk it is. A risk to train anyone it is. Strong you are. Older you are. The Jedi path hard is when start older you do. Greater risk you are to train. Hard on you training also is. Hard life for you the Jedi path is. Train or train not. Jedi knight to be or knight not. Different paths there are. Different choices there are. Train you the best choice may not be. Other choices a better path might be. A better path for you different might be. Bad that is not, even if disappointing feel that might.”

“Obi-Wan is different and he became a knight.”

“He did. A hard path it was. Many did not. But very clear the Force was, train Obi-Wan we should. Harder to see your path is.”

“You are different, and you became a master.”

“Hmm, yes, padawan I became. Then knight. Then master. Chose path to train I did.”

“So why was it okay for you to train if you were different?”

“ _Okay_ it was not. Risk it was. Grandmaster Nehi chose to train me not. Ready for the Jedi life I was not. Fears I had. Wounds I had. Time I needed to heal, to grow. Learn things I needed to do. Choose to train when ready I was, when fears let go of I could, when anger let go of I did.” Slowly, Yoda reached out one clawed hand and touched Anakin’s shoulder. The boy could feel a deep calm coming from the tiny master, like one of the deep pools of water he had seen on Naboo. “A hard life already you have had. Carry much you do, young one. Let go you must for the Jedi path good for you to be. If let go you cannot, bad you are not, but harder the Jedi path is, very painful it can be. Risk it is that hurt others you might. Risk for you to be hurt there is. Forget this Qui-Gon Jinn can sometimes.”

Anakin thought this over for a long moment. “So I have to choose to be a Jedi?”

“Yes. Decide the Council does if trained you will be. Decide to be a Jedi you must. Other choices still have you do. Always other choices you have. Bad that is not.”

“ _I_ have a choice?”

“You do,” Yoda confirmed. “A big responsibility that is. Choose carefully you must.” He patted the boy’s shoulder, then climbed down off the stool he had been sitting on. “Still young you are. Choose now to train or train not. Learn now, help you later to decide it will.” The master began walking back to the Main Temple.

Anakin watched him go. “It’s a choice because I’m different?” he asked.

“No,” Yoda turned back. “Same as everyone else it is. Choose each must.”

“I have to choose? Everyone has to choose?”

“Give you the choice the Force does. Your decision it is to take it or not.”

“That’s a lot to think about.”

“It is,” Yoda agreed. “Meditate you should.”

Anakin sighed dramatically.

Yoda chuckled. “That why teach you to meditate we do. Clear mind you will need for good choices to make.” With a nod, the venerable grandmaster took his leave

Anakin continued to watch until he was out of sight, the tiny shift in the Unifying Force moving just a bit more.  
  
“Huh.”

* * *

Battlemaster Drallig walked through the training complex, stopping in at different rooms, helping where he was needed. It had been a productive day. The knights transferring out of the Senate Liaisons Office had been made aware of the gaps in their skills and were hopefully going to take next week’s workshop more seriously. Qui-Gon Jinn was progressing nicely; Cin made a mental note to put F6 on his goal list and then see if he could get Master Si to consult without Jinn getting obstinate. Drallig had some ideas, but Si had much more experience with rehabilitating Jedi with those kinds of injuries. Cin had dealt mostly with temporary conditions (like sprains) or amputations (with and without prosthetics). A chest injury like Jinn’s had effects on breathing, posture, center of gravity, circulation, nerve conduction. Si’s eye for seeing how the Force moved (and how it changed post-injury) gave him valuable insights.

Reva had progressed well. The young woman had justifiable confidence in her saberwork, but she was not giving equal attention to other skills. Pairing her with Carlin had highlighted this; her getting bested by a knight she had never heard of was a terrific bonus, for both women. Carlin’s Niman was developing nicely, but pitted against Vos and Kenobi, it was hard for her to see her own progress. Reva on the other hand, had learned that there were Jedi who stood up well to Ataru, and they weren’t just big, tall, long-armed men like her master, nor bouncy, energetic teenagers like her peers. She was not ready for Junior Knight Level sparring yet, but it would come soon if she shored up her other skills.

Kenobi was also doing well, but it was clear there was a strain on him. It wasn’t showing up in his sparring exactly, he had done quite well, but there was a tiredness to him that could be seen between bouts, he lacked the energy and enthusiasm he usually had for the craft, his external concerns taking a toll on him. Master Yoda’s concerns were justified, but it was not yet affecting his performance. Still, if it went on any longer, it no doubt would.

He rounded the corner and heard the distinct sound of a well-harmonized blade. “Speak of the Sith,” Cin grumbled and poked his head in the door.

Kenobi was running a training simulation with a hologram Jedi running through Makashi-style attacks, the young knight analyzing the moves if not the strategy. He was not wearing the singed pants, so he had at least left the training center since this morning’s clinic.

“You don’t have to be perfect every time, Obi-Wan,” Cin called from the door. “You aren’t expected to win every bout or know every form.”

With a sigh, the knight halted the simulation. “I’m not trying to be perfect. I’m trying to learn how to defend myself.”

“You defend yourself very well. You’ve had little experience against Makashi.”

“I might need it later.”

Cin gave him an odd look. “Why do you think so? Form II is relatively rare among the Jedi.”

“It’s the classic dueling form,” Obi-Wan argued. “If we know it, the Sith know it.’

“They probably do,” Cin agreed. “We offer workshops in Form II and there are several duelists you can train with. You don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. “But I do need to figure it out.”

“What’s really driving you?” Cin asked. “I know you can’t let a lapse go unanalyzed, but you are usually smart enough to sleep on it.”

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable a moment. “I had a dream, about something else, but with me in the future. In the dream I had nerve damage and scars on my leg from a wound in almost the same place.”

“A wound from what?” Cin did not get such detailed dreams himself, but he had been raised by Yoda and was used to deep analysis.

“At the time I thought it might be from a blaster or a saber burn. There was one on my arm and one on my leg, here and here,” he gestured to the two locations. “I managed to parry an arm strike from you on the other side, but not the leg. Both were a little higher in the dream.’

Cin was quiet for a long moment. “As if you had fought someone taller than me.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, but with similar moves.”

“You’d think a true Sith Apprentice would have more reliable and aggressive forms to use than Makashi.”

“It seemed effective enough to me,” Obi-Wan shuddered. “And plenty of historical Sith used to be Jedi.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “That’s a good reason to study defense against Form II. Just not tonight. You’ve been here all day and you smell like a pack animal. No more drilling. Go shower and go home. Or go out. Or meditate. But I don’t want to see you back here until the day after tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan felt his jaw drop.

“Balance, Obi-Wan. You need it. You’re working too hard and you’re not taking care of yourself. Your form is excellent. It’s the rest of you I’m worried about.”

“Yes, Master Drallig,” Obi-Wan bowed his head, clearly unhappy with the restriction but experienced enough to know a protest would only lengthen the ban. He looked back at the frozen simulation. “Any other suggestions?”

Cin frowned. “As much as your master hated it, he was quite good at Form II, but I don’t think it would be best to pit you against each other right now. Mundi does Form II, so does Getrecht, and K’Trill is very good with it. Gi-Ho will know more, and Master Silvanus can still help with the footwork. Form III can counter Form II, but you need to able to read the opponent and keep up with the footwork. The best way to learn that is by doing. Master Bes used to be great at the footwork too, but not anymore.”

He looked over Kenobi, then picked up a wooden stave and held it out like a saber. “Show me where the burns were, but when you’re in your fighting stance.”

Obi-Wan complied, using his telekinesis to move a stylus to show where the scars had been without having to twist his body.

“Hmm, yes. Taller than me,” Cin frowned. “More than a handspan.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I may be wrong.”

“I don’t think you’re wrong. You’re strong in the Unifying Force. I just don’t want you making yourself sick or getting injured over it. Moderation.”

“Yes, Master Drallig.”

“Alright, off to the showers with you, Nerfherder. I look forward to our next match.”

“Me too.” Obi-Wan turned off the simulation and began to clean the practice room. Cin continued his rounds, puzzling over why a future Knight Kenobi would be scarred by a fight with a Makashi practitioner. Not that the scars meant it was necessarily the case, but the location of the wounds were consistent with that style of saber attack. From a tactical standpoint, Makashi seemed a poor choice in form for a Sith or Dark Jedi despite its versatility.

Cin rounded the corner on the way to his office to find Master Yoda walking down the hall.

“Master, what can I do for you?”

Yoda looked up at his last full padawan, his heart warming a bit. Cin was very formal in his role as Battlemaster, but when they were alone, he dropped it for familiar affection.

“Looking for Kenobi I am. Seen him you have?” Master Yoda could sense the knight was nearby.

Cin knelt down. “Yes, Master. I just sent him off to the showers. He’s been studying counters to Makashi and overworking himself, so he’s banned for tomorrow.”

“Hmm, fussing he is over the burn?”

Cin chuckled. “Somewhat, but he’s also getting some prompting from the Force. I don’t disagree with the direction of his study, just that he is overworking and out of balance.”

“Yes, out of balance he is. Concern me this does.”

“You’re going to speak with him?” Cin asked.

Yoda sighed. “Yes. Urging me to act the Force is.” The tiny master looked down the hall, a hint of dread in his Force presence.

“I agree, he needs a supportive friend, Master.”

Yoda sighed. “Avoiding me he has been. Let this go on too long I have.”

“He needs your help, Master,” Cin agreed. “If he decided to shower here, he should be finishing up soon.”

Yoda reached out in the Force. “Yes, in the showers he is.” He patted Cin on the knee. “Talk to him I must. Thank you for pushing him. A very good match it was. Good for the students, good for Kenobi.”

Cin snorted. “Good for _me_.” He clasped his former master’s hand gently. “His technique is very good, but he’s clearly suffering. I hope you can break through to him.”

“Hope this I do too.” Yoda squeezed back. “Go now I should. See you next week I will. Come speak to the initiates you should, understand who you are they should.”

“We’ll talk. May the Force be with you, Master.”

“May the Force be with you.”

Cin stood and watched his master go, then sighed. “You’ll figure it out, Master.” Shaking his head, Cin walked into his office and sat at his desk, still puzzling over a Makashi fighter taller than he was who would have reason to maim an older Knight Kenobi. Being taller wasn’t much of a help, most male human Jedi were, but if Kenobi was right and the angles were correct, it was a significant height difference. He’d have to discuss it with Yoda after he got Kenobi’s head on straight. He glanced at the framed flatpic on his desk from one of Master’s rare birthday parties. He was still a padawan, standing with his lineage brothers and Master Yaddle, the latter’s eyes bright and mischievous from when she had been teasing the birthday boy moments before. Behind them stood Simet and Yan Dooku, the former smiling despite the strain of forcing himself to socialize with the latter, whose own face was grim.

That grim face was about a handspan taller than Cin.

“Kriff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, many moving parts in this chapter. Lots of different threads are coming together, many different characters are facing change. Comments welcome as always!


	23. Part XXIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoda confronts Obi-Wan over their estrangement, gets an unpleasant surprise and gets some answers. Tears are shed, boundaries are pushed, confessions are made and there is a lot of talking. A. LOT. OF. TALKING. (So much talking).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from Don Henley's _The End of the Innocence_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkwCLaPPyO4
> 
>  **WARNINGS** : Differences in rank, non-consensual kissing.
> 
> There was WAY TOO MUCH Yoda dialogue in this chapter. Clearly I was out of my mind.

_But I know a place where we can go_

_Still untouched by man._

_We'll sit and watch the clouds roll by_

_And the tall grass wave in the wind._

_You can lay your head back on the ground_

_And let your hair fall all around me._

_Offer up your best defense,_

_But this is the end._

_This is the end of the innocence._

\--Bruce Hornsby, Don Henley, _The End of the Innocence_

Master Yoda settled down outside the shower rooms to wait. He could sense Obi-Wan was inside, but he wasn’t going to confront the young man while he was naked. Obi-Wan wasn’t typically body-shy, but he had been so skittish lately, and to do so would get the conversation off on the wrong foot. Obi-Wan was not hiding his presence in the shower rooms (this would have been considered rude) though he was shielding his thoughts and emotions more than one would expect when in the Temple and off duty. He was tired, as was typical from a day spent in exercise, but did not seem ill or injured, just weighed down as he had been for the past few months. Yoda stared at the door and wondered if his not-quite-padawan had noticed he was there. Their bond had been very quiet, shielded from Obi-Wan’s end, but it was still there, though it had likely atrophied in the past weeks when he was, according to Simet, being stubborn. _He_ didn’t think he was being stubborn, but Simet had raised some good points. It was all too easy to forget what being young was like, and how problems that seemed insurmountable then were relatively minor at later ages. Obi-Wan was also a rule follower. If he felt he was going against the rules, written or implied, that could well increase his distress.

A few senior padawans came out of the door and stopped, startled to see the Grandmaster just outside the shower room where they had likely been a bit rowdy.

Yoda waved them on. “Waiting for a friend I am.”

The young men bowed and hurried off, laughing nervously when they thought they were out of earshot.

Yoda continued to wait as the last few stragglers finished up and left, but Obi-wan still failed to appear. Yoda sent out a subtle scan with the Force; Obi-Wan was very still, likely no longer washing, but trying to meditate. Simet was right, Obi-Wan _did_ sense his presence, and was apparently trying to compose himself. With a sigh, Yoda closed his eyes, weighing the risks of confronting Obi-Wan now, or waiting while the young man continued to close himself off. He reached for the Force and the answer was very clear.

Determined now, Yoda scanned once more and found he and Obi-Wan were the only ones left in this part of the complex. Quietly, he slipped into the door and made his way through the empty shower and dressing bays, following the dim, shielded light of Obi-Wan’s presence. The closer he got, the more he could sense something was wrong, not just out of balance, but more serious. It did not whisper of Dark intent so much as of desperation. Obi-Wan’s light was still very pure, but it flickered with distress and despair. Simet was right, he had let the young man struggle too long.

At last he reached the bay where Obi-Wan was meditating alone. When he turned the corner the sight that greeted him filled him with horror.

“Stop that right now you will!”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open in shock. He was fully dressed, his hair damp but combed, and perched on the changing bay bench. To an outside observer he appeared to have simply been mediating and was suddenly interrupted, but in the Force the view was much more frightening. Obi-Wan wasn’t placidly releasing his more turbulent emotions into the Force. He was purging them. Not accepting his feelings, but ripping out pieces of himself, tearing them away because they could not be accepted.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the expression pained and shameful, flinching as he finished, making a clean break rather than leaving parts hanging, mutilated. He drew his shields more tightly around himself but made no move to run.

“Stop hurting yourself you must.” Yoda moved to come closer but stopped when Obi-Wan stiffened. “Solve this problem it will not.”

Obi-Wan bowed his head, not meeting his eyes. “The Force has not presented a better solution.”

“Avoiding me you have been. Why do this you have?”

Obi-Wan looked away. “I have lost my balance, Master Yoda. I respect you and I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.” He squirmed uncomfortably. Yoda hid his surprise. Obi-Wan had never reacted to him this way before, even when being reprimanded as a young child. “I had hoped to resolve this on my own, so I wouldn’t disappoint you.”

 _Well_. Vygor and Simet had hit the nail on the head.

“Losing your balance makes you disappointing not.”

“This does, Master Yoda.” He looked down again, unable to meet the Grandmaster’s eyes.

“Talk to me. Help you I will if I can.”

“You can’t,” Obi-Wan whispered, sounding so lost.

“More than eight hundred years old I am. Help very many troubled Jedi I have. Grandmaster of the Temple I am. Help you I might.”

“I know you are, Master. But you can’t.”

Yoda stepped forward slowly, watching his former half-padawan carefully and when he didn’t retreat, the master pulled himself up on the far end of the wide bench. Obi-wan huddled into himself, but still did not look up.

“In pain you are.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Struggling you are.’

“Yes.”

“Out of balance you are. Why purging you have been?”

Yoda could feel shame coming from the young knight as well as a feeling of being cornered, but none of the coldness he had expected. Simet had said Obi-Wan didn’t want this distance and Yoda could sense that now in his regret.

Obi-Wan still did not raise his head. “I’ve been having persistent feelings, intrusive thoughts. At first, I was able to just accept them, and release them to the Force, and restore my balance. They were . . . small. Harmless flights of fancy. Silly even.” He sighed. “But they got worse. And they wouldn’t stop.” He rubbed at his temple, clearly distressed. “Eventually releasing these feelings and thoughts didn’t help anymore, they kept coming back sooner and . . .” he paused, resisting the urge to cry. “And then I had no other options. I had to purge the emotions instead, so I could keep doing my duty without distractions. I don’t understand where I went wrong. I released my inappropriate feelings and looked to the Force for guidance, but it didn’t help.”

Yoda looked at the young man, turning over the problem in his mind. He was aware of the nature of Obi-Wan’s difficulties from his talk with Vygor but seeking guidance from the Force had not brought the young man peace as it should have. It should have helped solve the problem, not made it worse. Obi-Wan was practical; he could have quite strong feelings but as he matured, he gave into them rarely. Romantic or sexual feelings might be something he had limited experience with, but why couldn’t he let it go? He had certainly let go of Qui-Gon Jinn.

“If problem with Force you had, come to me you should have.”

“I couldn’t,” Obi-Wan’s voice was very small.

“Why?”

Obi-Wan considered his words carefully. “It would disappoint you.”

It wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had said this. Yoda reached out to the Force. He felt no indications that this would be the case.

“Why disappointed I would be?”

Obi-Wan heaved a great sigh. “I’ve had inappropriate thoughts and emotions. I have failed to properly release them. I have failed to make them stop. They are becoming a distraction, have kept me unbalanced, and have eroded my control. I am failing to live up to my responsibilities and what is expected of me as a Jedi.”

Yoda could admit this would be disappointing. Still, the problem from what he had gathered did not sound quite this dire.

“My disappointment, face this you cannot?”

Obi-Wan buried his face in his hands, quite distressed. “I have to now.”

“Let go of your fear you must.”

“I know. I was trying to figure out how to do so without hurting you.”

Yoda felt sorrow join the shame leaking past Obi-Wan’s shields.

“But I did hurt you, didn’t I?”

“Yes. Hurt my feelings were. Notice your distress I did not.”

“I’m sorry, Master Yoda.” He rubbed his temple again, clearly in pain. This was more serious than the Grandmaster had realized. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Please, Obi-Wan. Talk to me you can.”

“I can’t,” he sighed. “I know this situation can’t go on, Master. I have an appointment with Healer Vygor next week. I’m going to ask him for a referral to a psychiatrist so they can figure out what is wrong with me.”

Yoda carefully reached out, feeling Obi-Wan in the Force, not intruding on his thoughts, but getting a sense of his physical self. He was tired, not sleeping well, and was stressed and anxious, but there was no sign of illness beyond the physical effects expected from purging and being out of balance. It was possible there was a physiological reason for the imbalance, but it didn’t feel like this was the case. He listened to the Force, seeking insight.

“Help you a psychiatrist can I think not.”

Obi-Wan slumped further. “Will I have to leave the Order?”

Yoda closed his eyes, remembering when a much younger Obi-Wan had asked him this, convinced his master’s sudden anger was due to some fault in him, and that despite all of his efforts, the Council and Qui-Gon Jinn had changed their minds and were throwing him out.

“Why think this you do?”

“Because I can’t let go of my inappropriate feelings, I can’t find guidance from the Force, I can’t return myself to balance, and I can’t follow your teachings.” The shame slipped through his shields again. “And I’ve . . .” he couldn’t say it. “I’ve had inappropriate thoughts and I can’t make them stop.”

Yoda sighed. He had been hoping Obi-wan would open up to him without playing this card. “Spoke to Vygor I have.”

Obi-Wan made a distressed sound.

“Concerned for you I was. Concerned as Grandmaster. Concerned as friend. No indication he gave that being poor Jedi you are. Concerned he was, difficulty coping you have had. Tell him everything you have not, help you he cannot. Tell me you have not, help you _I_ cannot.”

“Do you know how to make it stop?”

Yoda was disturbed by how little hope there was in that question.

“Vygor said romantic feelings you are having.”

There was another wave of shame and embarrassment. “Yes.”

“Sexual feelings also you are having.”

Obi-Wan tried to tighten his shields. “Not at first.”

“Hmm,” Yoda nodded. “Tell Vygor who you love you have not.”

“No, Master.” Again, there was shame. “It’s not appropriate.”

“Why?”

Yoda could sense Obi-Wan’s pain and turmoil, but still the knight did not speak.

“Tell me you must. Share your burden.”

“It’s not appropriate for me to have these feelings.”

Yoda looked at him sharply. “Child this is? Person with diminished capacity this is?”

“No!” Obi-Wan looked up at him horrified. “No, Master. I would have checked myself into the Mental Ward or thrown myself out an airlock if it was a child or . . . or someone who would be harmed by me.” He dropped his eyes again, hurt that Yoda had to ask, but understanding the reasoning. “I wouldn’t hide that, Master.”

Yoda nodded. “What the problem is then? Help I cannot, help Vygor cannot if understand the problem I cannot.”

“My feelings are inappropriate,” he reiterated. “And disrespectful.”

 _Ah_. Vygor had thought this might be the case and it wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had brought up respect in this conversation. Nor would it be the first time Obi-wan had become pre-occupied by a fear of being disrespectful. Obi-Wan had an inner fire, a sharp mind and was not afraid to express himself, but he was always keenly aware of his station, his place, his status. He did not rebel, did not fight back, had even supported his master as the man tossed him aside in front of the Jedi Council. Respect was everything. Qui-Gon Jinn had carved that into his identity.

“Feelings rarely disrespectful are. Actions respectful are or not.”

“These are. My failure to stop them is disrespectful.”

Yoda sighed. Obi-Wan was going to make him dig it out, too ashamed to explain but too respectful to end the conversation. “Another Jedi this is?”

“Yes, Master.” He lowered his head into his hands, unable to look at Yoda.

“Another knight?”

“No, Master.”

“Hmm.” It was possible it was a Senior Padawan, there were plenty above the age of majority, but Obi-Wan had been the last of his friend group knighted and did not generally socialize with padawans. Someone of junior rank _might_ be inappropriate but wasn’t disrespectful. He was still young enough that pursuing an adult in their early twenties actually would be appropriate.

“A clergy person?”

“No, Master,” he sighed. “I really don’t know any of them very well.”

Yoda raised a brow. Obi-Wan had met several of the clergy between his visits to the South Terrace and his vigil. Yoda would have assumed they were on friendly terms, but Obi-wan tended to build deep friendships which took time to grow. Perhaps he didn’t know any of them well enough to have developed that deep friendship. Had his love interest grown from someone he knew well? This would be consistent with his personality. Yoda suddenly realized that whoever it was would have to be someone he respected and knew well before he could trust them. Was Vygor right? Was it someone above his station?

“A Jedi Master?”

He was quiet for a long time. “Yes, Master.”

“Disrespectful this is not. Desirable many masters are.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Qui-Gon it is not?”

“No.” Short, curt, the slightest hint of disgust, as if he could no longer completely respect Jinn just for being a master. _Progress_.

“A master you know well? A master you respect?”.”

Another long moment of quiet. “Yes, Master.”

“Reciprocate these feelings this master does not?”

Obi-Wan laughed ruefully, sounding as if it was to prevent a sob. “No. My feelings are not reciprocated.”

“Someone you know well this is? A friendship you have?” He strongly suspected Obi-Wan would have built an attraction on a pre-existing relationship rather than falling in love with a fantasy of someone he didn’t know at all.

“It’s someone I know. Someone who knows me.” _Someone I respect_.

“Avoid this person you have?”

“Yes, Master.” It was clear this pained him.

The list of potential love interests was probably not very long, but Obi-Wan was an old soul, so he likely had older friends that Yoda didn’t know about, masters he wasn’t presumptuous enough to put on his friend wall. And he had been spending more time with masters and older knights in clinic and the salle. He certainly respected opponents who took the time to spar with him, whether they bested him or not.

Obi-Wan sighed and laid back on the bench, his back no doubt getting stiff from his hard day. He dropped one foot to the floor, the other still on the bench, his bent knee a subconscious barrier between them. He covered his eyes, very distressed.

“Safe to tell me it is. Judge you I will not.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Yoda sighed and crept closer. “Grown up I am. Live with disappointment I can.” He patted Obi-Wan’s shin, cautious of crowding him. “Afraid to disappoint Qui-Gon Jinn you were?”

“When did I _not_ disappoint him?” he scoffed. “I tried not to disappoint him as a child, but I’ve long since accepted I would never meet his expectations, no matter what I did.” He was quiet a moment. “Your disappointment still cuts like a knife.”

“Disappoint me you have not.”

“Yes, I have.”

Yoda peered at him. Obi-Wan was one of his finest students. Obi-Wan’s shields slipped and Yoda got a flash of memory across their bond. He saw the tiled floor of a room in the Council Tower, could hear his own voice in Obi-Wan’s ears, could feel fear and shame and regret, so much like now, but the boots on the floor were much smaller. He was giving the young padawan a blistering dressing down and it took him several moments to remember why he had done so.

_Melida-Daan._

Obi-Wan _had_ disappointed him and had never forgotten it.

“Perfect you do not have to be. Disappointment happens sometimes does. The cost of living it is. My friend you are. Stumble you did as a boy, like many Jedi before you. In love you are, also like many Jedi. A disappointment you are not. Worrying me you are.” Yoda took a step closer on the bench, standing next to his raised knee, patting it gently. Obi-Wan closed his eyes as if the touch were painful or had been greatly missed.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Please. Help you let me.”

Obi-Wan covered his eyes with his hands and sighed deeply.

Yoda tried a new tactic. “Master Drallig it is?”

“No, Master.”

He tried to think of other masters Obi-Was was close to. “Master Rence?”

“No, Master.” Obi-Wan was starting to feel cornered again.

“Master Tahl?”

“No, Master.”

“Master Turvis?”

“No, Master.”

“Master Gi-Ho?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, not wanting to speak, feeling under pressure.

“Master Noxa?” He tried to think of other masters Obi-Wan had been friendly with as the young man continued to shake his head. “Master Belzen?”

“No,” Obi-Wan answered, despite himself.

Yoda looked at him carefully. It didn’t feel like a lie, but that guess had struck a nerve. He had already gone through other masters Obi-Wan regularly sparred with without getting a reaction. Belzen was different somehow.

Belzen wasn’t human.

_Inappropriate._

The Jedi didn’t forbid interspecies relationships, but a difference in both species _and_ rank would be unusual, if not against the rules. Belzen was still humanoid, but neither human nor near human.

“Master Caldra?” Many human males were attracted to Twileks, it was practically a cliché, but Master Denna was probably a bit too old to be a candidate.

Obi-Wan shook his head, mouthing the word no.

“Master Droom?”

Obi-Wan continued to deny it. Yoda was starting to run out of suspects, near human or otherwise.

“Master Drellen? Master Rurch? Master Kolur? Master Bilata? Master Trebor?”

“Master, please stop.” The plea was weak. Quiet.

“Obi-Wan,” Yoda had run out of candidates. “Please tell me.” He drew near, sitting next to Obi-Wan’s shoulder so he could see his face. They had sat this way many times when Obi-Wan had been his half-padawan; it had allowed them to be close and speak quietly without straining their backs or necks. They would have long talks deep into the night about the Force, about their struggles, building their friendship, their bond open, trust, respect and comfort passing back and forth. Now that bond was quiet, shielded, Obi-Wan not willing to open his mind in his time of distress. Yoda moved to gently brush his hair near his temple with one clawed hand, but Obi-Wan hissed sharply in pain. Yoda pulled back as if burned, but not before he caught another image, this one of himself. He was gently tugging on young Obi-Wan’s padawan braid, smiling into his teenaged face, radiating calm reassurance.

This was where their bond mapped out on Obi-Wan’s body. Most padawans’ training bonds mapped to either the site of their padawan braid or their equivalent status mark, or to their chests, over their hearts. Some mapped to sites on their faces or hands, or some other place their master’s showed affection. Obi-Wan’s bond to Master Jinn had mapped to his shoulder, consistent with their distant, cool relationship. He hadn’t realized his own bond with Obi-Wan had mapped here instead.

The bond should not be painful, however. It was unlikely the bond could be injured without him noticing, even with Obi-Wan shielding himself, but it was possible the pain was related to Obi-Wan’s purging, the contact rubbing against the raw wound.

“Please, Obi-Wan. Trust me you can. Let me help you can.” He could feel he was wearing the young man down, that Obi-Wan was running out of options, or felt Master Yoda would find out eventually, if not from him than from Vygor, or whoever else he had to work with. “Please, my not-quite-padawan. Alone you don’t have to be. Good friend this is, yes? Spoil your friendship over this you do not want.”

Obi-Wan choked back a sob. “I already have.”

“Oh, Padawan. Tell me you can. Hurt like this love should not.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, so close to breaking under the strain, so tired of hiding it, so forlorn.

“Tell me you can.” He ran his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair, far from his temple, comforting without pain.

Obi-Wan broke.

“You.”

For a moment, everything stood still. Yoda was silent. Tears glistened along Obi-Wan’s eyelashes as he waited for the blow to fall. For Yoda to denounce him or sever their bond, or just leave in disgust.

“Foresee this I did not.”

Obi-Wan heaved a deep sigh, the tears finally starting to fall. “Neither did I.”

“Ashamed you do not have to be. Insulted I am not.”

“Oh.” He was still ashamed. Still in despair.

“Let your seed grow you did, when trust someone you did.”

Obi-Wan looked away, trying to blink away the tears. “And it was a weed.”

A weed. Unwanted, but it kept growing back.

In his more than eight hundred years as a Jedi, this _was_ something Yoda had dealt with before. He leaned down and gently touched Obi-Wan’s chin, turning his head to face him. Obi-Wan allowed him to, his eyes still closed, silently crying.

Yoda leaned down and kissed him on the lips.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed open as he gasped in shock. Yoda stroked his cheek, hoping to calm him but this seemed to free him from his paralysis instead. With more than a touch of the Force, Obi-Wan slid out from under him and scrambled backward over the adjacent bench, staring at Yoda, wide-eyed.

Yoda gazed back, keenly observing, waiting for the usual reaction, the realization that one had just been kissed by a lizard and an _ancient lizard_ at that, romantic feelings melting away like mist in the morning sun. That didn’t happen.

Obi-Wan stared at him, pale, his shame momentarily eclipsed by shock. And arousal. Confused, he brought his hand up to his lips. “Was that your—” He stopped, his brain suddenly catching up with this new experience. He shut his mouth.

Yoda blinked at him, puzzled. “Kissed before you have been?”

“No.” Obi-Wan was still staring at him, as if he were a venomous predator, waiting to strike.

“No?” Yoda asked, confused. The Force had certainly shown him Obi-Wan was an experienced kisser.

Obi-Wan squirmed again, uncomfortable. “You know he didn’t want me.”

Yoda stilled, realizing his mistake. Thirty-something Obi-Wan was a good kisser. Twenty-seven-year-old Obi-Wan hadn’t had that experience yet. Twenty-seven-year-old Obi-Wan was still wrestling with unrequited love.

Love for _him_.

He had not seen this coming, had had no warning in the Force, had had no idea at all that _he_ was the object of Obi-Wan’s focus. No one else had noticed anything amiss, so how could they have all missed it—

 _Kriff_.

“ _Hooghartige bonenstaak_ ,” Yoda muttered.

Obi-Wan’s expression shaded into bewildered. “Beanstalk?” Thoughts of the Agri Corps flashed across their bond as he tried to translate.

Yoda sighed and shook his head. “Beanstalk _you_ are not.” He slumped, not sure how to move forward. The simple solution had failed. Obi-Wan loved him and he’d just made a royal mess of it. He looked around, not wanting to make the whole situation even worse.

“Come, Obi-Wan. Talk more we must. The locker room the place for this is not.”

Obi-Wan stood up cautiously, finally breaking eye contact to retrieve his robe from his locker, seeming to hide in its voluminous folds.

“Yes, Master.”

* * *

As they walked through the Temple, Yoda became aware that Obi-Wan’s shields were in shambles and his emotions were too turbulent for him to hide. Yoda paused before they left the complex, surrounding the knight with a protective shield.

“Thank you, Master.” The words floated out from beneath the knight’s deep hood.

Yoda looked up, trying to see Obi-Wan’s face in the shadows. “Come, far to go it is not.” He was grateful he had not gone on any particularly long walks today. In the past, Yoda would not have hesitated to ask Obi-Wan to carry him, though the young man usually offered before he had a chance. Now, the knight was so raw and wounded, Yoda feared such contact would just make it everything worse.

Yoda led them to the lift, then considered their blurry reflections as the doors closed. He could see the worry in his own posture. Obi-Wan looked like a ghostly monk awaiting punishment or exile for some unspeakable sin.

Yoda sighed. “Flogged you are not going to be. Stopped that Jedi did before born I was.”

“Jedi still exile their own. Cast them out.”

“For this not.”

“Komari Vosa was.”

Yoda stopped, looking up at Obi-Wan in surprise. Dooku’s failed padawan was rarely spoken of, but he supposed he should have expected Obi-Wan was familiar with her. Qui-Gon Jinn would likely have used his younger lineage sibling as an example to keep Obi-Wan in line. “Denied her Trials Vosa was. Cast out she was not. Chose to leave she did, ashamed of her failure she was. Exiled some Jedi have been when choose to follow the Jedi path not.” He paused, looking up at Obi-Wan. “Dreaming of the desert you have been?”

“Every night.”

“Infatuated with Dooku she was, but her fury, her temper the bigger issues were. Many padawans for masters feelings develop. Told you I did, actions a greater issue than feelings are. Brought before the Council she was. Examined she was. Her rage she could not control. Infatuation a symptom of it was. Deeper problems there were.”

“Is that where we’re going?”

It took Yoda a moment to understand the question. “No.” Obi-Wan must have been quite distraught if he didn’t know what tower they were in, but even in his great distress, it seemed he still trusted the Grandmaster, enough to follow him to judgement and exile. “No tea in the Council Tower this late.”

The lift finally stopped and as they got off Obi-Wan looked up enough to recognize they were in the Masters Tower on Yoda’s floor. Wordlessly, he followed along down the hall. Yoda caught a glimpse of them in a large data screen, a dark reflection of Simet’s assertion that Obi-Wan Kenobi followed his great-grandmaster around like a baby duck. Today he was the ugly duckling, beaten down by the world and himself for not turning out as expected, but trying so very hard to be a duck.

A duck he was not, indeed.

Yoda had intended to go into the door to his quarters, but under the circumstances, Obi-Wan had gone to the parlor door, expecting that room to be more situation appropriate. Given his emotional state, counsel was certainly in order. Yoda opened the door, waved him in, then closed it behind him and set the sign to read _do not disturb_. He was not the only elder to offer counsel to Jedi, one was always available, every hour of the day or night, with a second on call. However, he was the only one without set duty hours. Being grandmaster made his schedule less predictable.

A very soft sound caught his attention, and as he turned around, he tracked it to a small drop of water on the floor by Obi-Wan’s feet. Concerned, he led the young man further in and motioned for him to kneel, frowning up at him, ears drooping as his face came into view. The front of the knight’s robe was damp and there were tear tracks on his cheeks. He had been silently crying their entire walk.

“Come with me you will,” he said gently, then led Obi-Wan into the main apartment, pushing him toward the refresher. “Wash your face. Dry your eyes. Feel better you will. When finished, to the padawan room go. Find your calm. Be there soon I will.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan seemed beyond the initial embarrassment now, only mustering a near listless acceptance.

“Do nothing rash you will. Punishment this is not. Talk we will.”

Yoda’s concern spurred more awareness in the knight. “I wouldn’t, Master. Not at this point, and certainly not in your home.” He sniffed, resisting the urge to wipe his nose on his sleeve. “Even if . . . you have to cast me out . . . I can still go to Alderaan.”

“You can,” Yoda nodded. “In charge of whole Republic I am not.” He patted Obi-Wan’s calf encouragingly. “Come to that it will I think not. Go wash your face.” The door to both the refresher and the padawan room opened. “Join you soon I will.” He didn’t move until Obi-Wan reluctantly did as he asked.

As soon as the fresher door closed, Yoda scurried to the kitchen nook and indulged in a rare, silent freak out before he released a good chunk of anxiety to the Force. He could hear the water moving through the pipes as Obi-Wan washed up; he reached for the kettle, ran cold water in it and set it to boil. He selected a soothing herbal tea, the last thing either of them needed at this point was caffeine, and set up the pot, listening as Obi-Wan left the fresher and settled quietly in the spare room. Yoda began to pace while the water heated, turning the problem over in his mind, trying to figure out how he had missed this.

He knew Obi-Wan had a potential with Vos, and one with Carlin, and after his experience on Dailfo both had shifted forward in time. He had wondered if the shift had been due to Obi-Wan’s near rape, but his conversation with Vygor indicated he had a new love interest instead who did not share his feelings, which had seemed to explain it.

Yoda realized he was wringing his hands and made himself stop as the kettle began to whistle. With care, he poured the water and set the pot to steep, then gathered water bulbs, cups and a small jar of honey, as Obi-Wan’s throat might be a bit raw. Opening his cupboards, he was dismayed to see his larder was scant. With their unusual estrangement he had lapsed back into not keeping it well-stocked. Dried seaweed, bug butter, dried meat, stale crackers, ale in the chiller. There was some bread, which he put into the toaster, and he found an unopened jar of jam and some cheese cubes, which he added to the tray. He suspected Obi-Wan may have missed the evening meal and he hoped he’d be able to coax the young man to eat.

His mind turned back to the matter at hand. Obi-Wan had feelings for _him_ of all people but did not have a potential relationship right now. In fact, he had not had any potentials until Vos, and that wasn’t for several years. Future Obi-Wan had told Vos he had a little experience, but he clearly had not had it yet. Was there a new potential he hadn’t seen?

He glanced up at a small, framed pic of Simet when he was young, giving him a knowing look. “Oh, so smart think you are you do. Better warning given me you could have.” He sighed, reaching for the tea pot to remove the leaves. Simet had certainly been encouraging him to talk to Kenobi. He’d even stopped teasing him now that he’d finally identified his own secret admirer.

Yoda looked back up at the pic, ready to tell it off again, but the picture was blurry, obscured by the steam wafting out of the teapot.

And it clicked.

Obi-Wan could have a potential that was forming, and he just couldn’t see it.

But Simet could.

Yoda blinked, startled by the sudden rightness he felt in the Force.

Was thirty-something Obi-Wan inexperienced, or was he just inexperienced with _other humans_?

Yoda let out an astonishing string of curses that would have left a space pirate blushing. He felt a flash of worry coming from the spare room.

“Worry not,” he called back. “Council issue there is.” His comm beeped suddenly, adding legitimacy to the lie. He tossed aside the tea leaves and glanced at the text-based message.

_SI-CHIB:_ _Don’t screw this up, Lover Boy_.

Puzzled, he reached into the Force, but this time felt his own mind, felt his bond with Obi-Wan. Despite the estrangement, the bond was still strong, sparkling.

 _Growing_.

“Oh.” Apparently, he was the last to know. Besides Obi-Wan.

Intrusive thoughts, indeed. He had simply accepted that he cared for Obi-Wan in ways that were more than he thought the young man would have been comfortable with, but to Obi-Wan such feelings must have been baffling, confusing and distracting. He too had been releasing them, with understandable worry, but was also following his mentor’s advice to open himself to the Force, to develop his mind, which would have urged him toward . . .

_It just got worse._

Yoda bit back another curse. No wonder the knight had been purging his emotions, desperately clinging to balance. And with no S-training he couldn’t understand what was happening or why, could only see it as something harmless that developed into personnel failure. So he had shielded it.

He glared at Simet’s picture again. “A better hint very nice would have been.”

His comm beeped again.

_SI-CHIB:_ _That would be cheating_.

Yoda decided he didn’t want to know and picked up the tray and carried it to the spare room.

When he entered the room, Obi-Wan was kneeling, forehead on the floor, arms outstretched, swallowed up in his robe, in a posture of penitence. It was something taught to all initiates, but rarely used after one made senior padawan and was considered an adult. Yoda had not seen him do so since his probation had been lifted. Interestingly, Obi-Wan did not hold his hands out flat or in loose fists, fingers curled against the floor, but in the older monastic tradition, with the palms turned up, ready to receive either counsel from a gentle hand or correction in harsh blows. He had not removed his lightsaber from his belt, but then Yoda had not renounced him.

“Talk to the top of your head I do not want. Please sit up you will.”

Obi-Wan raised his head, surprised Yoda had returned with a tea tray and not something more dire. When their eyes connected, Yoda felt a flash across the bond, and he saw two images clearly in his mind’s eye. The first was Obi-Wan’s view of him now, looking up at him, hands still palms up as if he couldn’t quite believe he was really supposed to sit up. The tiny master had barely interpreted this before a nearly identical image was superimposed over it. The same view. The same room. Rougher hands palm up in coarse monk’s robes. And instead of himself holding a tea tray, it was Grandmaster Nehi holding a switch. Yoda blinked, realizing it was not coming from the room, but from Obi-Wan, a subconscious memory fragment that he could not see, but was affecting him now in his vulnerable state. Long ago, in another life, he had waited in this very room for a different little, green grandmaster to dole out punishment.

They _had_ met before. Yoda suddenly knew this in his bones. The question now was how many times they had met before.

Yoda put aside that question for another day. He had enough on his plate already. “Pull out the mat, please. Sit on the hard floor I want to I do not.”

Wordlessly, Obi-Wan obeyed, pulling out the mat that often covered the floor of the spare room, providing sleeping space, seating, or a place to meditate. When he had finished centering it in the room, parallel to the walls, he stood off to the side, awaiting instruction.

“Thank you. Sit you will,” he stepped onto the mat and put down the tray, gesturing to the other side. “Talk we will.” He began pouring the tea while Obi-Wan resettled, mirroring his lotus position. Yoda prepared their cups the way they both liked, then slid Obi-Wan’s cup and a water bulb across the mat to him, knowing the young man was still quite skittish. “Drink tea, drink water. Feel better you will.” He sipped his own cup, knowing good manners would make Obi-Wan hesitant to drink first.

Obi-wan held the cup in both hands, huddling around it almost as much as for the warmth as the hydration. Yoda waited until he had gotten some fluids in him before he started to speak.

“Much shame I sense in you. Why this is?”

Obi-Wan looked into his cup, not meeting Yoda’s eyes. “Because my feelings are inappropriate, and I failed to release or control them.”

“Hmm, why inappropriate these feelings are?”

Obi-Wan was so disturbed by this development that Yoda would have expected a sarcastic retort, as if he thought the answer was obvious, but the young man was so cowed from being found out he answered truthfully, without resistance. “You’re the Grandmaster.”

“Hmm,” Yoda nodded. “The Grandmaster I am.” He raised his brows. “Too crusty to desire I am?”

“No, Master.”

“Hmm, too _old_? Too bald? Ooh, know this one I do, too _green_ I am?”

Obi-Wan did not look up from his cup. “No, Master.”

“When young knight I was, Master Nehi the Grandmaster was. Old he was. Cranky. Wrinkly. Never quiet enough the initiates could be. Only other like me in the Temple at the time. Desire him I did not.” He waited a moment, but Obi-Wan didn’t answer. “Many like you in the Temple there are, but feelings for me you have. The wrong species I am? That the problem is?”

Obi-Wan sighed, not sure what to make of Yoda’s gentle, teasing tone. “That’s part of it.”

“Hmm,” Yoda sipped his tea. “What the rest is?”

“You’re the Grandmaster. It’s disrespectful.”

Yoda looked down at himself. “Hmm, disrespected I do not feel.” He shrugged. “Questionable taste you might have, but respectful you are.” He put down his cup. “Even when avoid me you did, always polite you were. Tell me plan to you did not?”

“No, Master,” he sighed. “You don’t understand. It . . . it was very wrong.”

“Hmm, what wrong was? Feel what you did?”

“Bad things.”

The young man’s shields had begun to crack and crumble slowly. Yoda was quite sure it wasn’t all that bad. “Dark things they were?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan answered honestly. “Disrespectful things. Rude things. Wrong things. Unnatural things.”

“Love me you do.’

“Yes.” Obi-Wan sipped his tea. “But it all went wrong somehow.”

Yoda remembered Obi-Wan telling him he was important to him, at the time feeling a claim of love was too forward to say to the Grandmaster. He had wondered at the time if Obi-Wan could admit the platonic love or if he had been trying to rein it in, to temper his emotions, or if he thought his half-master would be offended. Or if Qui-Gon Jinn had just made him extra cautious with his heart.

“Go wrong how did it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It just did. We were friends and it was warm. Your presence was comforting. Calming. I thought it was healthy. A thought of you brought peace to my mind. A little joy, but not anything I thought was dangerous, nothing distracting. Fondness. When missions were hard, or I was lonely, I thought of coming home to the Temple, of visiting you for tea or learning more Breggle. It didn’t seem like a terrible vice, or a weakness but it was.”

“Because worse it got?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan put the cup down and stared at it. “So much worse. As I said, it seemed harmless, silly even. I’d be eating breakfast and wonder if you had remembered to restock your pantry. I’d watch the stars flying by and remember watching the false stars with you in the garden. I caught a cold and remembered you staying with me during the vigil, so I wouldn’t be alone when I was sick.”

“Hmm, agree I do. Harmless this should be. Worse it got how?”

Obi-Wan fidgeted a bit. “It started to get . . . _weird_ , but still seemed harmless.”

“Hmm, weird how it was?” He could sense embarrassment now in the young man.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I started to have odd thoughts. I would think about us watching the stars, but it would be different.”

“How different was it?”

Obi-Wan squirmed. “You were much closer to me.” He sounded mortified. “You put your head on my shoulder and were right up against me, not where you were then. Or other times we would sit together, and you would . . . sit closer.”

“Touch you more in your thoughts I would.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, yes, weird that would seem.”

“I thought the Force was just telling me I needed more friends.”

“Hmm, a good guess that is. Happen next what did?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long time. “These . . . thoughts became disrespectful. I would . . . I would have thoughts of you at inappropriate times. During . . . private meditations.”

“Hmm, chapter six?”

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to say it out loud. “I wasn’t trying to. I don’t understand why it happened.”

“Unexpected this is. Difficult to understand this is not.” Yoda put down his teacup. “Love me you do.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Trust me you do.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Lonely you were, miss me you did.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s tone was cautious. “But I’ve missed you before. I don’t let myself dwell on it. I let it go.”

“Deeper love you feel. Trust me you do. Let your seed grow in your heart you did. Desire you felt. Happen always it does not, but very natural it is.”

“How do I make it stop? I let my feelings go to the Force and they just got worse. I spoke about them with Vygor and they got worse. I purged them and they keep coming back.” He froze. “Am I supposed to leave the Order? I didn’t think I was, but if I can’t follow the Code, maybe I’m supposed to cast _myself_ out.”

Yoda blinked at him. He’d thought Simet was dense at this age, but Obi-Wan had taken it to a new level. It really wasn’t his fault though.

“What part of the Code follow you cannot?”

“Attachment is forbidden.”

“Think of a friend when lonely you are. Too attached this is?”

Obi-Wan began picking at the seal on the water bulb, focusing on it to quiet the fidgets. “I wouldn’t have thought so if it was Bant or Garen. And if the thoughts stayed normal.”

Yoda opened the jam and began spreading it on the toast. “Hmm, adult you are. Normal things so far you have said.” He slid over a slice of toast and some cheese cubes. “Eat you should. Keep up your strength you must.”

“It still got worse, but that’s when I started to be concerned that I was too attached. Before the bad meditations.”

“Sexual desire bad is not.”

“ _There is no passion._ And now I’m out of balance and can’t find my serenity.”

“Looking for serenity in the wrong place you are. Passion dangerous for a Jedi can be. Passionate did you become?”

“I don’t know. I tried not to. I know there is no try, Master. I just mean I made efforts not to, but I kept having strange thoughts that were of a passionate nature. I don’t know if I can even _feel_ passion, but I felt . . . something and then my serenity was weakened.”

“Fear you felt?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, yes, overcome passion fear can. Opposite also happen can.”

Obi-Wan swallowed a cheese cube, silent.

“Agree I do that find serenity you must for Jedi to remain.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, radiating more despair.

“Difficult to deal with as you think this is not.”

“I can’t think of anything else to try, Master Yoda.”

Yoda snorted. “Missed a big one you did: tell the truth, ask for help.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anyone I could go to.” He chewed on his toast.

Yoda sighed. “Know this I do. Fear clouding reason was. Fear of disappointing me let go of you must. Eight hundred years I have lived. Deal with it I can.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Hard on yourself do not be. The only one in this room who mistakes makes you are not.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyes to peek at Yoda, as if he didn’t quite believe him.

“Apologize to you I must.”

“Why would you have to apologize to _me_?” Obi-Wan frowned.

Yoda waited until he held his gaze, serious. “Rude I was to kiss you. No warning gave you I did.”

Obi-Wan looked suspicious. “I thought it was a test.”

“A test it was,” Yoda admitted. “Understand you do what testing I was?”

“You were studying my reaction, but I don’t know what for. I didn’t react as you expected but being as old as I am and not . . . knowing how to do that was probably unexpected.”

“Hmm, yes, your reaction observing I was, your feelings reading I was. Apologize I do. Realize quite that inexperienced you were I did not.”

Obi-Wan looked back down at his cup. “I’m twenty-seven, Master. It wasn’t an unreasonable assumption.”

“Eh, when twenty-seven years old I was, kissed I had been not.” He ate his own toast. “Brother Bodan kiss my forehead would when big enough I got, but different that is.”

Obi-Wan gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “How old is a twenty-seven-year-old,” he paused, realizing he didn’t know the name for Yoda’s species. “Person like yourself?”

“Hard to say. The brain ready for padawan to be, the body not. Still, older than you I was when first kiss had. Very nice it was, not a surprise from crusty Grandmaster Nehi.” He made a slightly disgusted face.

“The sagas and poems don’t generally describe Grandmaster Nehi the Wise as _crusty_.”

“Moisturizer he needed. Used it he did not. Very scaly he was.” Yoda levitated more cheese cubes to Obi-Wan’s plate. “Eat you should.”

Obi-Wan picked at his food. “It could have been worse. Master Jinn could have done his job and then my first kiss would have been with someone who despised me already.”

“Deserve more you do, Obi-Wan.” Yoda looked at him fondly. “A first kiss special should be. With someone you love it should be. With someone who loves you it should be. Feel good it should, frighten you it should not.”

Obi-Wan looked down at his cup, calmer now, but still lost. “I managed one, I guess. That’s no worse than it would have been if Master Jinn had done what he was supposed to do.”

“Hmm, two you had. Not one.”

Obi-Wan flinched, certain that love would soon be lost.

“Master, my feelings haven’t stayed platonic.”

“Know this I do. Desire you feel.”

“I know it’s wrong, and I can’t stop it.”

“Accept it you must.”

“I _did_ that, Master, and it kept getting worse.”

“Hmm, think I know where went wrong it did.”

“You do?”

Yoda could feel him trying not to get hopeful. “Yes.” He put down his teacup. “Need to look behind your shields I must.”

Obi-Wan shrank into his robe. “Master, there are . . . vile thoughts in my head. Strange, awful things.”

“Eight centuries I have lived. Think that seen this before I have not?”

“I don’t want to insult you or disgust you. To give you a reason to despise me or be disappointed by me.”

“Want me to feel like Master Jinn you do not.”

“Yes.”

“Qui-Gon Jinn I am not. Insulted by your feelings I will not be.”

“Yes, you will. It’s . . . it’s wrong.”

“Want to fuck me you do.”

“I . . . I really don’t know how that would work,” he sounded puzzled, even disturbed, but he didn’t actually deny it.

“Hmm, no.” Yoda looked him over carefully. “No, want to make love with me you do.”

Obi-Wan looked away. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Yoda sighed. “Bring back flogging for your master I am tempted. Grandmaster I am. Do this I could. Approve it Mace would.” He waited until Obi-Wan looked back at him, cautiously. “Forbidden attachment is. Allowed love is. Temper passion with serenity you must, let passion overrun yourself you should not. Sex allowed is. Fucking allowed is. Quiet your master is not. Know this you surely do.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, determined not to laugh at Master Yoda’s straightforward lecture. “Yes, Master. If it wasn’t, Master Jinn would have left the Order by now.”

“Making love also allowed is. Feelings you are allowed to have. Express them you are allowed to do. Be ruled by your emotions not, live life led by lust not, but lovers you may have. Share bodies, minds, joy you may.”

“With other knights.” Obi-Wan continued to pick at his toast nervously.

“Other _people_ with.” Yoda stood up and walked up close, but Obi-Wan would not meet his eyes. “Tell you I must, fuck me you cannot.”

Obi-Wan flinched at the crude language as if he had been slapped.

“Seen you naked I have. Your penis too big is.”

Obi-Wan gave him an incredulous look as his hand strayed to his temple. “I can’t say I really thought up anything that detailed or explicit, Master.”

“Hmm, insulted I would not be if imagined it you had. Experience anal sex I have. Fuck you I could.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan looked disturbed and reluctantly intrigued, still absently rubbing his temple.

Yoda’s eyes tracked his hand. “In pain you are. Concerned I am. Let me see you will, please?” He could sense Obi-Wan wavering, clearly uncomfortable.

“I do respect you, Master. I didn’t want to have these thoughts.”

“Know this I do.” Yoda reached up and tugged on his arm to get him to lay down. “Injured you are. Tended to it should be.”

Obi-Wan winced. “It usually isn’t this sharp.”

“Hmm,” Yoda looked very concerned. “Cut deeper you did?”

Obi-Wan looked away. “I had to. It kept coming back.”

“Then opened self to the Force you did, for guidance?”

“Yes, Master.” He shifted, in obvious discomfort.

“Hurt when raw and near me it does?” Yoda tugged again and Obi-Wan laid down with a sigh.

“Yes, Master.”

“Hmm, tied to the bond it is, that’s why hurt more it does.” He could feel it now, up close, a slight tremor, a pulling on the bond from the psychic wound. “Quiet your mind, relax, open up. Many lovelorn Jedi I have seen, insult me you will not.”

“I respect you, Master.”

“Know this I do. Pry I will not.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, unable to look at him, but his weakened shields began to give way. Yoda stood next to him, patting his shoulder in encouragement, knowing that sending comfort through the bond right now would hurt.

“Know I do that hard this is. Judge you I will not. Open before you have been. Know I do no dark intent there was.”

Gently, Yoda pressed on Obi-Wan’s chin, getting him to tilt his head. It was not unlike the exercises they had done to learn to pass in Breggle, but the actions were difficult and painful. Obi-Wan stiffened, and suddenly the bond opened, and Yoda could sense all the young man had been hiding: shame, fear, pain, desire, love. He had let his seed grow and now he was desperately fighting it, horrified that it had gotten so big so fast and that is had grown in this particular direction.

Yoda carefully reached toward Obi-Wan with his mind, feeling along their bond while the knight held himself still, teeth clenched. The master had been correct, their bond, though weakened by their estrangement, was still intact , but there was a raw, painful place, very close by, and as he reached for it, it seemed to flare brightly, then shrink back, while Obi-Wan flinched, the pain suddenly sharp.

Yoda paused, rubbing Obi-Wan’s shoulder soothingly, concerned it had hurt, even before he had touched it. He closed his eyes, and went deeper, watching their bond where it rooted into Obi-Wan’s brain and mind. Despite the pain of the contact, it was slowly coming back to life, light returning to the lonely places like stars coming out at night. The shape, the feel of the bond was familiar, warm, comfortable, built from the respect and platonic love Obi-Wan had for him, much richer and more substantial than the young man would ever admit to. Bu adjacent to it was this raw place, a torn-out part of the psyche still bleeding shame and sorrow. Very cautiously, Yoda sent out a small Force tendril toward the wound and it seemed to spasm again, lighting up along its ragged edges, even as other parts of the mind held it back with increasing desperation. Dimly, he could hear Obi-Wan hissing in pain, unable to unravel the emotional knots he had tied himself into. Not wanting him to suffer, Yoda sent a gentle pulse of Force energy, numbing the wound and Obi-Wan instantly went limp, not realizing how intense and chronic the pain had become.

With this relief, the last of his resistance came down and Yoda could finally see the source of the problem. There was nothing wrong with their pre-existing bond. It was the new growth that had been driving this. Obi-Wan, with his strength in the Unifying Force would have sub-consciously sensed this potential and had begun laying out the framework, waiting patiently for the slightest reciprocation from his loved one. Normally this would have resulted in a sudden, intense, possibly embarrassing increase in their pre-existing bond, and for most people, a night or three of mind-blowing sex or deep meditation (or both), depending on their previous relationship. But Obi-Wan had been attuning himself to the Force and had been getting feedback from the developing bond port that usually went unnoticed, or was indistinguishable from one’s own feelings of love, lust or longing. He had correctly traced the link between his feeling and this new growth, and unable to effectively release the emotions driving the forming bond, he had ripped out the new bond port instead. Several times.

There were multiple wounds, healed over, ripped again, each time getting closer to the bond they already had, and each time the tiny seed in his heart came back again, and if it didn’t work this time, he’d have to rip at his heart itself, to start to kill his own capacity to love, because he just couldn’t stop the deep love he was so sure was an unwanted insult. Carefully, Yoda sent another Force pulse, a healing balm to the wound, and though it was still numb, the wound stopped bleeding, and slowly the dark, injured places began to light up, slowly returning to life. He sent out another tendril, and this time, instead of the painful spasm of conflicting efforts, the bond port reached back, clumsily trying to embrace its target, but still too weak and injured for the bond to form. Yoda let it brush against his probe, but didn’t linger, knowing Obi-Wan could not feel the contact right now. Instead, he touched the bond they already had, feeling the confusion, the fear, the bewilderment of not knowing what was happening. He saw himself through Obi-Wan’s eyes, both as a dear companion and mentor, and simultaneously as someone untouchable, someone sacred, not a god, but a spiritual being, his leader, his guide. A being so pure and wise and unreachable that to desire his body and heart felt not merely disrespectful, but blasphemous.

A Jedi should be a humble servant of the Force. When the Force told him to open his heart to the Grandmaster, he could not understand how this could be. He could not fathom his love could be returned, or that a deeper bond would be welcomed. He could not imagine it wasn’t a mistake, so he had clamped down on the bond they had and had reined in the new growth as well. Instead of a beautiful conflagration of contact and growth in the middle of a Breggle game that would have sent the stones flying and left them both breathless and tingling, he had felt an aching pull whenever they got close, and a deep loneliness as the bond port kept growing. Until he ripped it out again.

Yoda flooded the intact bond with comfort and acceptance, taking Simet’s advice that Obi-Wan was too frightened to trust himself. He felt the young man’s breath hitching beneath his hand, and then he began to see images, the _vile thoughts_ Obi-Wan had tried so hard to suppress. Desire, the bond and his own gifts of foresight made a potent cocktail that might amuse an experienced lover but had frightened a virgin so dedicated to the Code.

Yoda sighed. As he suspected, it wasn’t as bad as all that. But he also understood respect, and he hadn’t been the Grandmaster his whole life. He remembered his first painful feelings for one he could never have, and could well imagine not wanting to share his deepest sexual feelings with either his love interest, nor Grandmaster Nehi. (Given the situation, he hadn’t been sure which would have been worse, but Master Nehi, in all his scaly wisdom, had taught him he would have to find love with the people he had).

Yoda began to pull back from Obi-Wan’s mind, gently examining his other bonds as he went, checking for damage beyond disuse. It was still so hard for Obi-Wan to trust, to love. Right now, Yoda _was_ the people he had, and he loved him.

 _Deeply_.

He opened his eyes and stroked Obi-Wan’s hair near his temple, again seeing his own smiling face, tugging gently on a padawan braid, but there was no pain this time. Obi-Wan’s mind was still open, emotions bleeding out.

“What did you do?” Obi-Wan asked. “The pain stopped, but . . .”

“But love me you still do.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan seemed resigned. “You can’t fix it either, can you?”

Yoda patted his shoulder. “Something to fix it is not.”

“Is it a medical problem? A tumor or a hormonal imbalance?” Obi-Wan seemed mystified that Yoda was not acting repulsed.

“No. Very normal you are. Very normal your feelings are. Unusual target I am, but first to feel this way you are not.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “What happened to the others?” It was clear he still feared expulsion.

Yoda continued to stroke his hair, projecting calm acceptance. “Hmm, the first person to desire me you are not, though most very young were, or much older. Young people usually infatuated are. See me as a real person they do, charmed they are, young hormones confused can get. Then, when kiss them I do, wake up they do. Realize how old I am they do. Old, bald, wrinkly, green lizard I am. Decide a better friend than lover I would be. Awkward for while it felt, but soon back to normal it gets.”

“I didn’t go back to normal.”

“No. Infatuation you do not have. If infatuation all it was, release it you probably would have. Thought yourself silly you might have, but frightened not. Noticed at all I might not have.”

“Oh.”

“Instead, love me you do. Very much. Very deep love. Try to release it to the Force you did. Ask the Force for guidance you did when the feelings returned did.”

“Yes. It didn’t help.”

“Hmm, guidance the Force gave you. Trust it you did not.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes, confused. “I don’t understand, Master. I sought guidance from the Force, but whenever I made an attempt—”

“Came back the feelings did.”

“Yes.”

“Grow stronger your love did.”

“Yes.”

“Start to feel desire you did. Greater longing it was than just missing a friend.”

He looked away. “Yes.”

“An answer the Force gave you. Trust the Force you did not.”

“It didn’t make sense.”

“Trust yourself you did not.”

“If the Force can’t be wrong, I must be wrong.”

“Hmm, yes. Understand that I can. But trust _me_ you did not. Help you I could have. Necessary to suffer it was not.”

“But it was my mistake.”

“A mistake it was not.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Master, I don’t understand.”

“Know this I do. Very simple it is. Remember your prayer beads, for the affirmation ritual?”

“Yes, Master.”

“The first bead what was?”

“Love.”

“Love, what?”

Obi-Wan looked away. “It said I was loved.”

“Yes. _Loved you are._ The last bead what was?”

“That I have love to give.”

“Yes.” Yoda gave him a soft smile. “Love me you do. Love you I do. Very convenient it is.”

Obi-Wan gave him a shaky sigh. “You love me, as a friend.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “a very good friend you are.” He moved closer, his knee touching Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Sometimes, when kiss people I do, realize I am lizard they do not. Disappear their feelings do not. When deep feelings they are, when infatuation it is not, already know that a lizard I am. Forget this they have not. Love me as more than a friend they do.”

“What happened to them?”

Yoda reached out and touched Obi-Wan’s cheek, gently turning his head. The young man flinched, and another memory flashed across their now open bond. Qui-Gon Jinn was stroking his cheek in just that spot, telling him as his life slipped away to train Anakin, no love or pride in him, only a call to duty, a last demand for obedience. Even as Qui-Gon lay dying, there was not a single kind word from the person who had been the center of his world. Little wonder Obi-Wan expected only rejection.

“Hmm, usually kissed back they did.” He leaned down and kissed Obi-Wan gently on the forehead. “More experience they had. Catch on faster they did.” He could feel Obi-Wan’s thoughts racing. The young man might be dense, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Catch on to what?” It was clear he knew the obvious answer, but his rational mind was still rejecting it outright.

Yoda bent one finger and rubbed the knuckle gently over Obi-Wan’s cheek, as if he could erase or overwrite the bad memory with a better one. “That lead them astray the Force did not. Love me they do.” He kissed the bridge of Obi-Wan’s nose. “Love them back I do.” He kissed the other cheek, tasting a few fresh tears. He trailed his knuckle up over Obi-Wan’s face until it rested where his padawan braid used to be and their healthy bond pulsed. “Just a friend not. Deep love there is.”

Obi-Wan grew very still. “And they were like you?”

“Hmm, rarely. Many like you were.” The bond pulsed again, but there was still no pain. “Some like you, worried about the Code they were. Many thought share their feelings I would not. A few thought insulted I would be. Many confused felt. A few even virgins were.”

He rubbed his knuckle on Obi-Wan’s temple and the bond pulsed again. Obi-Wan shifted a bit, his body not knowing how to direct the energy, unused to this kind of stimulation.

“Master, what are you doing?”

“Hmm, catching on you are. Telling you that love you I do. Telling you that love you deeply I do. Unrequited your love is not. Trust in me, trust in the Force you can. Alone and lonely you do not have to be.” He stroked over Obi-Wan’s temple again and the knight gasped, pupils dilating as the bond flared to life, all the way down to the roots. “Also seducing you I am.”

Obi-Wan grew still releasing the sensations to clear his head. “Master, is this is a test?” He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Yoda could love him.

Yoda waited until Obi-Wan looked him in the eye. “A test this is not. A choice this is.” He moved his hand away from Obi-Wan’s temple, not wanting to overwhelm him. “Tell you the truth I have. Decide you must what next to do. But shame you do not need, no matter what decide you do. Nothing shameful you have done.”

Obi-Wan was silent but had calmed down. “What if I want it to stop?” he asked at last, unable to look at Yoda’s face. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t stop it, like I did before.”

“With Qui-Gon?” Yoda asked. Obi-Wan nodded.

“Why stop loving him did you?” The ancient master had counseled and comforted his then half-padawan through his grief but hadn’t interrogated him. In fact he had recused himself from that portion of his Trials.

“It wasn’t because he hurt me, which he did. It wasn’t because he broke our bond, he had done that before. It wasn’t even because he rejected me. He had never truly accepted me to begin with.” He sighed. “I made myself stop loving him because my love led me to make bad choices. I couldn’t love him and be a Jedi.”

“What bad choices make did you?” Yoda stroked his shoulder, soothing the long scarred-over bond.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “He wanted me to train the boy. I would have done it for him, if he had died. Because he asked and I loved him. Even though it would have been a ridiculous mistake. Even though the boy is too old and too attached. Even though I would have been a terrible master, too uncertain, too inexperienced, too . . . uneducated, far too young. I would have done it and doomed that boy to a darker path. Because I loved him, and he asked me to.”

Obi-Wan tried to turn away, ashamed again, but Yoda stilled him with one clawed hand.

“Told you I did, terrible you would not have been.”

“Yes, I would.” He pulled back slightly through the bond, not quite hiding, but not as open. “I’ve learned so much in the past two years, learned how much I don’t know. And I’ve seen his talents, felt him in the Force. I would never be able to meet his needs. I would have held him back. And his emotional needs . . . I can’t even figure out my _own_ feelings. And he expected Master Jinn. Getting me as a consolation prize, I would be a disappointment from the beginning. But still I would have done it. Because he asked. I realized it was unhealthy, that I had to stop. Him treating me like so much stray debris helped, but it wasn’t the reason I stopped.”

Obi-Wan was a Jedi down to his very core.

“And loving me you want to stop?” Yoda asked, his tone gentle.

“I don’t want to. Even though it’s shameful. Even though it’s wrong. Even though keeping it hurts. Attachment is forbidden, and I can’t trust myself not to make bad choices.” He was no longer crying, his emotions more uneasy now than turbulent.

“Perfect you do not have to be, Obi-Wan.”

“Maybe I should have been a monk instead. Master Jinn thought the monks choose their path because they are cold and unfeeling, but they feel too deeply to be knights, don’t they?”

“Yes.” Yoda rubbed his shoulder again, feeling a chill there in the Force from the broken bond. “Many clergy feel celibacy a small price to pay for attachment is. But love and attachment the same are not.”

“I know. Enslavement to emotion is not the same as emotion. And love is also an action, a choice, not just a feeling.”

“Why think too attached you are?”

“Because pulling away from you hurt, and everything I did to try to deal with it hurt more, not less. And not just because I was hurting your feelings.”

“Know you do why hurt so much it did?”

“No.”

Yoda touched his temple again with a fingertip, careful not to scratch, gently touching the bond, not to stimulate it but to draw attention to it. “Feel the bond you can?”

“Yes, Master.” He frowned, sensing something was not quite the same.

“Sense the numb place you can?”

“No . . .” He stopped, and Yoda could feel him touching the bond himself. “Yes. It’s, . . . is it part of the bond?”

“Prod it not. The place where cut you did it is. Healing it is.”

“I didn’t think I had cut into the bond yet.” He seemed very puzzled. “You would have noticed that.”

“Part of the shared bond it is not yet. Growing, developing it was, before tore it out you did.”

“What was growing?” He sounded mystified.

Yoda stroked his hair, sending reassurance through the healthy bond. “A bond port it is. Your brain was preparing for a stronger bond to grow, more than just an old training bond. Love me you do, love you I do. Know this your brain did, trying to get ready it was.”

Obi-Wan’s feelings ranged from baffled to embarrassed. “My brain tried to . . . to force a bigger bond on you?” He wasn’t sure if it was rude or just ridiculously futile.

Yoda stroked him temple again, just slightly shading into pleasant stimulation as he tweaked the bond. “No force there was. Preparation only. A potential between us there is. An opportunity for love there, an opportunity for joy. An opportunity for sharing. But still a choice it is. Form right now the bond cannot, tore out the port you did, but still trying it was, very painful it was. The Force gives to you a choice, the port says yes, you say no. Tie yourself in knots you did. Numbed it I did so heal it could, so decide without pain or compulsive thoughts you could. Your choice it still is. If trust yourself, if trust me you do, deeper love I would share with you, gladly. Cautious you are, wise for your years, but always underestimate yourself you do. Wise you were to give up love if ask wrong things from you he did, but the fault lies in the relationship, in love not. Never safely love this means not. Find someone you can trust to love you must. No right to ask you that he had. A lover you need who you trust with your heart you can, so clear mind you will have. If trust you cannot, deserve your heart they do not.” He pressed Obi-Wan’s chin, turning his head to look him in the eye. This time the memory of Qui-Gon’s demand did not flare to life. “Trust me you do? Understand I will if you do not.”

Obi-Wan looked up into his eyes, and Yoda could feel the bond pulse as Obi-Wan carefully weighed the question. “I trust you with my life. I know that someday, more likely than not, you will send me to my death, not because you don’t care for me, but because our duty demands it, and the Force may call me home. Assuming I _don’t_ end up an exile in the desert, I will die for my duty unless the Force wills that I beat the odds and survive until retirement. Even though you or Master Windu will in all likelihood send me to my death, I entrust my life to you because I know you follow the will of the Force and you don’t spend lives carelessly.”

“Yes. Send lovers and friends to death I have. Hurt deeply it does but prevent me doing my duty it does not.”

“I trust you with my mind. I see now that I was foolish to avoid you. I truly felt I would have insulted you, offended you and disappointed you. Until these,” he struggled for a good adjective. “Lustful thoughts, I always trusted you in my mind, knowing that you had great powers of influence or coercion, but also knowing you would not use them to hurt me. That you used your skills to teach, not to mold me or bend me to your will.”

“Love you for your mind I do. Think for yourself you do. Expect me to think for you, you do not.”

Obi-Wan stopped speaking.

“Trust me with your heart do you?”

“I don’t know if I can trust anyone, Master. He hurt me and he didn’t even love me. You say you love me, but it hurt already.”

Yoda kissed his forehead again. “Broke your heart he did. Many times. Sometimes small cracks, sometimes torn all apart it was. This time broke your own heart you did to save trouble for me. That cruel to you I would not be, even if refuse you I would have been. Dear to me you are.” He patted his own chest. “A place in my heart you have, always, even when go to Force one of us does.”

Obi-Wan stared up at him, puzzled. “But attachment is forbidden.”

“Attached you think I am? Send you to your death I will, if ask that the Force does. Mean that I would not love you, this does not. Mean that I would not mourn you this will not. Weep for you I would, a long time, but do my duty I would. Love you I do. Attached I am not. If die first you do, go on I must.” He stroked Obi-Wan’s hair again, releasing the passing thought that Obi-Wan might never let him have this closeness again. “Love me you do, but held yourself away you did, even when hurt you it did. Thought it your duty was. Love me you did, but still put your assumed duty ahead of your feelings. An error you made, but attachment your mistake was not.”

“I don’t know how to balance love and attachment, Master. I’ve read about it, I’ve given up people I love, or could have loved, but not like this. It wasn’t like this before.”

“Hmm, help you need with balance. Whoever ask you could?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I was being really stupid.”

“Afraid you were.” Yoda combed through his hair with his fingers. Obi-Wan had had his hair cut short again, longer than a padawan cut, but most of the sun-kissed highlights had been removed. The strands slid between his fingers, over his claws, like silk.

“It was simpler when I was a padawan. I knew he didn’t love me, that he did love, but not me. Other relationships were forbidden, and he found me distasteful. I loved him, but I didn’t desire him.”

“Hard desire to kindle is if being unwanted a certainty is.”

“But why did I . . . have these feelings for you? I was certain you would think me . . .”

“Unappealing?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Laughable. Horrifying. Incompatible. Any of them. All of them.”

Yoda snorted, then reached out to tap Obi-Wan’s forehead. “Your brain so certain it was, a very rational brain.” He then tapped Obi-Wan’s temple. “The bond, the Force telling your brain otherwise was. Which brain right was?”

“I told myself I must be so ugly to you. Repulsive on a physical level. Too tall, too hairy, in weird colors, no scales or claws. That I must look weird and sound weird and smell weird and I was being ridiculous.”

“Hmm, Master Yaddle I am not.”

“What do you mean?”

Yoda chuckled gently. “Master Yaddle find you physically unappealing would. More drawn to her own species she is. Grew up among her own people when a small child, came to the Temple later she did.” He leaned over, smiling into Obi-Wan’s face. “Raised mostly by humans I was, since very small I was. Imprinted on them I did. Rare my species has been in my life.” He shrugged. “Been with my own kind I have, but rarely. Been with many humans I have, and other species. Different we are, but very different not.” He chuckled again. “Smell weird you do _not_.” He leaned down, putting his head next to Obi-Wan’s neck, inhaling deeply. “Familiar you smell. Smell of friend you do. _Young_ you smell. Healthy, strong.” He tweaked the bond gently. “Virile.”

Obi-Wan almost laughed, still distraught, but calming down as they sat together. It had been so long since they had opened the bond between them, the calming, soothing effects were stronger than they normally would be.

“I don’t think I can live up to that last one, Master.”

“Disagree I do. Feel you in the Living Force I can.” He moved so that he was resting his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and his body was pressed against his side and arm. “Saw some of your fantasies I did. Bad they were not. Insulted I was not.” He snuggled closer. Obi-Wan had imagined something just like this but he had been shirtless. Yoda had been fully dressed, as if he could not bring himself to imagine his great-grandmaster unclothed. “Intrigued I was.”

“You were?” the knight squirmed, recognizing Yoda’s position from his own thoughts.

“Hmm, yes. Never thought you would.” He sighed. “Told you I did, love you deeply I do. A strong bond I have with you. Let me into your heart and mind you have. Dear to me you are. Also, beautiful you are but less important that is. A beautiful soul you have.” He curled his fingers, letting his nails stroke Obi-Wan’s chest through his tunics. “Understood I did that deep trust required before desire you might feel, but, hmm, thought go for your own kind you would I did.” He chuckled gently. “A young virile knight who desired me? Expect this I did not. Think of you that way I did not. Like Vos looking at the art print, recognize the signs I did not, even when hints given were. Know now I do, roll with it I can.”

“I gave you hints?” He was still all over the place emotionally, but was starting to release some anxiety as his rational mind began to accept that Yoda was _not_ going to have him expelled from the Order. “I tried so hard to hide it.”

“No,” Yoda shook his head against Obi-Wan shoulder. “Hints you gave not. Simet did.”

“Master Silvanus? I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Tell him you did not have to. See much he does. Very strong in the Force he is. See the potential between us he could.” Yoda sighed again. “Very smug he will be when see him again I do. Hit him with my stick I might.”

“Oh.”

“Known me for a hundred years he has. Seen me in love before he has. Probably very obvious it was.”

“You’re in love?” Obi-Wan sounded alarmed.

“Yes. Quieter for old man like me it is.” He ran his nails over Obi-Wan’s tunic, a gentle touch, not unlike petting his hair. “A gentle love, growing quietly it is. Expected it to be returned I did not. A burning lust it is not, a comfort it was, not a bother, but share more with you I could, if want that you do. A bond port I do not have, but very easy to bond with you it would be.”

“Is that what _in love_ is for Jedi? Quiet acceptance? Trust? Caring?”

Yoda sent those feelings along their bond, feeling the knight’s breath catch. “Deep love is, yes. Deep friendship, deep sharing. Sharing of the mind, often sharing of the body. Required it is not, but very good it can feel.”

“You’ve shared your body with humans before?” Yoda had indicated this before, but the young man wanted to be sure he wasn’t misunderstanding him.

“Yes. Many lovers I have had. Eight hundred years old I am. Many padawans I have had too. Told you I did, masters guided padawans in this, long before S-training. The Force very powerful is, strong it is in Jedi. Complicate sexual relationships it can. The Force moves with katas, saber duels, Breggle, meditation. Moves with sex the Force does too. The Force tells of the future and the present, tells us more about our lovers than others see. Different temptations exist for Jedi. Control minds for sex one must not. Most padawans think S-training about emotional control of the self is. Part of it that is, important it is, but not all. S-training is about being a good, responsible adult when sex you have, not controlling passion only. S-training is about letting go of control safely, so control more important things you do. S-training is about healthy relationships to have, about learning sex to enjoy, but to be manipulated by your lovers not. Forgot this your master did, blinded himself to Xanato’s manipulations he did. Let love and lust hide dangers he did. Knew he did that easy to love you could be, but easy to fall under the spell for him it was. Allow self to fall he would not, allow self to love he would not either.”

“What spell, Master?”

“ _Your spell_. Your power of seduction. Charming you are, but manipulative not. Understand you do not the power of your own beauty, your own sex appeal, because value that you do not. Incite lust in you it does not. Value trust you do and withhold that from you Qui-Gon did. Feared it he did, when that Darkness in you is not. Cold he thought you were but stoke flames in you he never did.” Yoda rolled into Obi-Wan’s body, tickling at him with his claws. “Fire in you there is. Seen it I have. Kindle it we can, if trust me you do.”

“You want to . . . do sexual things with _me_?”

Yoda pressed against him, sending love through their bond. “Yes. Desire you I do. Share pleasure with you I would if want that you do. Still seducing you I am, gently. Still a choice you have to make.”

“Master, I don’t know how to do anything.”

“Know this I do. Worry me this does not. Breggle much harder to learn than sex is. Frighten you it might but learn to open your mind to me already you have. If relax and trust me you can, hard it does not have to be.”

“I don’t know what to do, Master.” He had never really thought much beyond never getting found out.

“Meditate you should. Clear out your head if you can. Still be here I will when done you are.”

“Right now?” He moved to sit up, but Yoda gently pressed him back down.

“Now, yes. Feel the Force. Feel the emotion. Let it go. If still in knots you are tied, help you I will, but let go of your fears you must, let go of your shame. No matter what decide you do, let go of these you must.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Let go of your fear first. Root of the problem there is.” He sent another pulse of love and acceptance through the bond. “Still here I will be, loving you.” He could feel Obi-Wan try to release enough anxiety to meditate.

“Are you . . . comfortable?” It wasn’t really what he was trying to ask, but it was all he could manage to get out.

“Yes.” Yoda sent another warm feeling of love down the bond. “Warm you are, like a sun-kissed rock on a bright day. Comfortable I am. Release your fear you must. Love you I do. The seed in your heart drive me away never could.” He could feel the young man struggle to accept this. “Qui-Gon Jinn I am not. Love you already I do. Many choices you have: yes, no, maybe later, not now, never, still not sure, small steps only. No wrong answers there are. Still loved you will be. Release your fears. End your suffering. Hurt yourself you must stop.”

“Yes, Master.”

Yoda waited, feeling when Obi-Wan managed to slip into a meditative state despite his love interest laying on top of him. He stopped trying to entice the young man, just sending calm acceptance through their bond. He wanted Obi-Wan to make his own choice in this, without pressure, but the more he examined this possibility in the Force, the more right it felt, and not just for Obi-Wan’s growth, health and well-being, but beyond that, affecting his confidence, his connection to the Force, whether he would ever take a padawan, and what kind of master he would be. So many ripples in the Unifying Force, but it had to be his choice. He wondered if Obi-Wan could also sense the ripples on some level and if this was also driving his fears.

Yoda slipped into a meditation of his own, feeling the rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s breathing, feeling the beat of his heart beneath his fingertips, letting the Force flow over him, sending more acceptance. He could feel Obi-Wan releasing his fears, and there were so many, but the shame was harder to let go of, stemming from long-held beliefs and how he had been raised. Qui-Gon Jinn always considered himself very open-minded, but he had internalized many of his master’s conservative views of what was decent and proper. Qui-Gon had no issues with homosexuality (nor in fact had Dooku, though he had been rather closeted outside of the Temple), but large age differences, interspecies relationships (barring only slightly different near-humans), triads and other multiples and differences in rank were frowned upon, particularly for Dooku. Qui-Gon had engaged in some of these in his youth, but had grown more conservative as he grew older, even more so after Xanatos had turned. His second padawan had been very promiscuous and sexually adventurous, and while he could behave politely while on missions, he was very open about his preferences at the Temple and had led his master down the road of temptation more than once. It wasn’t the sex that had been the problem, nor even the pushing of boundaries. It was the power dynamic, the dysfunctional relationship of the domineering prince and the maverick, both feeding off each other, both rebelling, with neither acting as the voice of reason. Obi-Wan was much less judgmental, his friend group and agemates hosting a variety of unconventional relationships, but his master had held him to higher standards, often higher than Jinn kept himself. It was little wonder Obi-Wan’s feelings had left him so distressed and confused.

But the shame had him worried. Jedi had high standards of behavior, but liberal sexual mores in general. He certainly wasn’t the only Jedi in the Order with few fellow members of his own species, but Obi-Wan was human, surrounded by many other young, beautiful, healthy humans and near humans, and he was quite physically beautiful by human standards. Obi-Wan could have his pick among the interested humans, so him choosing instead to have a relationship with an alien, particularly one that varied so much from the humanoid norm, would raise some eyebrows. That he would choose the Grandmaster would raise more, and possibly lead to accusations of favoritism. It wouldn’t be the first time. In his teen years, Obi-Wan had been teased and harassed, accused of being Yoda’s pet (and worse), though the boy had been more concerned about _Yoda_ being offended than with the bullies’ abuse. Still it was something to consider if Obi-Wan chose to go forward.

There was also the issue of his other lovers. Yoda didn’t consider himself all that promiscuous, but he was definitely not monogamous. Prior to the new relationship with Bes, Si was probably his most regular partner, but their relationship was one of old friends, not romantic in nature. He would not characterize Simet as a primary partner. He had several less frequent partners, all retired, it not living on the South Terrace, most of them like Simet, having outlived their other lovers. He really hadn’t had a primary, romantic partner since Master Dedrin had passed into the Force. He hadn’t had a non-padawan lover as young as Obi-Wan since long before Simet had been born.

He thought about the memory flash Obi-Wan had inadvertently sent him, and his assertion that Obi-Wan was an old soul, one that had clearly lived before, and this was not his first life as a Jedi. He let Obi-Wan’s presence wash over him, wondering when they had met before, remembering how Obi-Wan had seemed to recognize him as an infant. There had always been something familiar about him, something warm and comfortable, but he couldn’t tie it to a specific person or memory. He would have to meditate on it further.

Carefully, Yoda moved his head so he could hear Obi-Wan’s heartbeat, slow and steady as his breathing as he continued his meditation. The tiny master slipped into a light meditation of his own, waiting for Obi-Wan to return. The rise and fall of Obi-Wan’s breaths had lulled him into a quiet, peaceful state, but the breathing changed as the young man began to surface. Yoda opened his eyes and hoped for a good outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, some of you were right.
> 
> First, a shoutout to **alwayskeepwriting (Kandai)** who called the rare pairing in _Chapter 5_ (which made me wonder if I was being too obvious). There was another person who made the same speculation before Chapter 18 but of course I couldn't find the exact comment last night, so feel free to take a bow, whoever you are.
> 
> Second, a shoutout to **ASchwa29** who gave an alternate theory of the rare pairing that was such a fine argument I felt kind of bad they were wrong. You are on to something, just not that. 
> 
> Before you complain that I left you with another cliffhanger, this was an almost 15K word chapter, and you did get your big reveal. ;) If any of you want to bail after finding out the rare pairing, I understand and I thank you very much for staying with me this long. If you want to stay, there is more character development ahead. And possibly rare pairs rare-pairing.
> 
> Also, I happened to note the hit count just before I posted last week, and we had 1100 hits in the past week. I am so humbled that so many people wanted to read this much of this story, and have continued to do so. Thank you all so much for joining me on this adventure.


	24. Part XXIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan comes to a decision. And there is more talking. Because it's Obi-Wan and Yoda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics quoted are from _The Rose_ as recorded by Bette Midler. When I was looking for a video to link I found this version which has Bette Midler singing it as a duet with Wynnona Judd. I had never heard it before, but I really liked this version, so here it is for you to enjoy. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02MZU9WL80Y
> 
> This chapter is also heavy in the Yoda dialogue, so I apologize in advance. 
> 
> **WARNINGS** : warnings are a spoiler, so if you feel the need to be warned, see the end notes.

_When the night has been too lonely,_

_And the road has been too long,_

_And you think that love is only_

_For the lucky and the strong,_

_Just remember in the winter_

_Far beneath the bitter snow_

_Lies the seed that with the sun's love_

_In the spring becomes the rose._

\--Amanda McBroom, _The Rose_

Obi-Wan blinked, then looked up at the ceiling, much calmer now. He had been able to release his fears about his unexpected feelings, and Yoda’s potential reaction. The master’s actual reaction had opened up new sources of potential anxiety, but for now he had found a measure of calm.

“Feeling better you are?” Yoda did not move from his position, still monitoring Obi-Wan’s breathing and heartrate.

“Yes. Less anxious. Not balanced yet.”

Yoda snorted. “Expect you to find balance I did not. Too much to resolve by yourself right now there is. Less fear now do you have?”

“Yes. I’m still concerned I’m not living up to Jedi standards, but I can see I was overreacting.” He sighed. “I should have been more honest and upfront with Healer Vygor.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Reassured you he could have. Judged you he would not have. Told you I did, happen before this has.” He chuckled gently. “Probably very surprised he would have been. Happen often it does not. Very old I am now.”

“That will be such a comfort the next time you pound my face into the floor of the salle.”

Yoda laughed out loud. “Feeling better you _are_.” He cuddled against the knight. “Understand you do why laying like this I am?”

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, shame seeping across the bond. “You saw it in my mind.”

“Yes, a fantasy you had it was.” He turned his head to face the knight, resting his chin in his hand. “Show you my feelings I did. Upset was I? Insulted?”

“You didn’t seem to be, Master.”

“Angry was I? Disgusted?”

“No.” Obi-Wan grew still. “You seemed very accepting, Master.”

“Why still ashamed you are?”

“Even if you aren’t offended, my feelings seem improper and presumptuous. Abnormal. And I’m not used to feeling this way.”

“Out of control you feel?”

“Sort of.” He frowned, looking inward. “I don’t feel like I’ll lose control of my actions and . . . and pounce on you in some sort of lust-fueled frenzy.”

“Pity,” Yoda sighed. “Much fun that could be. More fun it is if choose to pounce you do.” He patted Obi-Wan’s chest, encouragingly. “Out of control do you feel how?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, staring at the ceiling. “I feel less in control of my body, less in control of my mind. I’ve had . . . bodily reactions to my feelings, and I’ve feared embarrassing myself or making you uncomfortable.”

“Aroused you have become?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Feel good it did?”

“Physically . . . it was as one would expect, but emotionally, it made me feel conflicted, ashamed, incompetent because my self-control was slipping from my grasp. Guilty, because I was disrespecting you. Disappointed with myself, every time it happened again, no matter what I did.”

“Sweet young man you are, try so hard you did, but fighting the Force you were, drawing us together it was. A bond trying to form was. And love me already you did. Trust me already you did. A very strong pull the growing bond had.” He laid his head back down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, hugging him lightly with both arms. “Nothing to merit shame you have done. Mistakes you made in asking for help not, but shameful this is not. Numbed the bond port I have. Desire me still you do?” He could sense Obi-Wan analyzing his feelings, taking care not to touch the numb place, as if afraid of bringing it back to life.

“Yes. It’s much quieter, like a banked fire, but it’s still there. I didn’t try to release it, and the purging didn’t eliminate it.”

“The purging removed the active lust, but the deeper desire not.” He sighed. “Feel it I can, grown from your love it was, lust not. What desire you do?”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer, trying not to squirm in response.

“Judge you I will not. Want to understand I do. Want _you_ to understand I do.”

“I . . . it feels wrong, Master.”

“Seen your fantasies I have. Not right it is, not wrong it is. It just is. Just how feel you it is. Understand your feelings you must, help you to lose fear that will.” He rubbed Obi-Wan gently with his fingers. “Tell me you can. Safe to tell it is.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a while, but Yoda could sense him gathering his thoughts and building up his courage.

“I . . . desired spending time with you. More than I usually have a chance to.”

“Desire that also I do.”

“I . . . I desired more physical contact. More than was proper given our relationship.”

“Yes, see that I did. Do that we can, like now we are doing. Proper in public we should be, but Jedi you are, know that already you do. Acceptable this is. Desire this also I do, but thought I did that make you uncomfortable it might, especially when sick you no longer were.” Yoda snorted. “So polite we both were. What else desire you do?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a bit, used to suppressing these strange feelings, not expressing them. “I desire . . . more mental contact. I’ve been shielding our bond, because I thought I had to, but I never wanted to.”

“Feel good the bond does.”

“Yes, Master.”

“A source of comfort and companionship it is. Less lonely you feel when open it is. Feel it sometimes you can when far apart we are?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan frowned. “Sometimes, when I’m on a mission run and I meditate, it feels like you brush against my mind, but I was sure I was imagining it. I didn’t have nearly that much distance with Master Jinn.”

“Three months ago, meditate on New Flejen Station you did.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Felt you then I did. Meditating at the same time we were. Brush your mind I could. Realized this was odd I should have, but natural it felt.” He paused. “Your feelings around then started?”

“Yes, Master. I remember thinking it was a strange thing to imagine and . . . the feelings started after I returned to the Temple.”

“Hmm, the bond port activating was. Call to me it did, even though _you_ did not.” He shook his head. “So smug Simet will be. Missed it I did.”

“Nobody is perfect, Master.”

Yoda chuckled. “No, we are not. Very silly we are.” He grew quiet. “What else desire you do? Time together we can have if duty allows. Touch we can,” he hugged Obi-Wan again. “Very pleasant it is. Mental contact we can have. Good it feels, good for you it is. Calm you it does. Joy it brings me. Temper strong feelings we must, but beneficial it is.” He settled against Obi-Wan, aware the young man had gradually grown comfortable with this degree of contact between them. “Sexual desires do you have? Okay to have them it is. Okay if unsure you are. Okay it is to have them not. Offended I will not be.”

“I . . .” Obi-Wan trailed off, unsure how to explain. “I think I have desires of a sexual nature, but . . .”

“Know how to satisfy them you do not?’

“Well, yes. I don’t.”

Yoda nodded. “Understand how to share physical passion we can you do not?”

“I don’t,” Obi-Wan admitted. “That makes it more difficult to know what to do with these feelings when . . .” he suddenly felt apologetic, not wanting to sound crude, but not finding an alternative. “When I don’t know how or if any of our _parts_ fit together, and even if we were the same species, I’m really still not sure.”

Yoda raised his head to scrutinize the young knight. “Sex Ed classes you have had, yes?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Yes, Master. I’m aware of the basic mechanics of the most common forms of humanoid sex acts. But I’ve never done them.”

“Just checking I was.” He lowered his head. “Lovemaking with humans not so different is, but all the combinations will work not. Small I am. Smaller orifices I have. The sensitive places slightly different are. But in general the same it is. Enjoy touch I do. Enjoy touching I do. My penis very sensitive is, feel very good touch there can. Enjoy kissing I do. When against a lover I rub, very good that can feel. Climax I still can, feel very good it does. Give my partner a climax I can, feel very good also that does. Touch my lovers I do, with my hands, with my body, with my tongue, with my penis, with the Force. Touched I can be the same way. Feel very good lovemaking can, but trust one must have, fear not. Casual sex I can have, sex with friends enjoy I can, but you, trust so much you must. Share this we can if trust me you do.”

Obi-Wan blinked, staring up at the ceiling. “You are the person I trust the most, Master. More than anyone, even when I was a child and gave trust too freely. Is that why I became . . . focused on you?”

“Probably,” Yoda smiled against him. “Told you I did, trust you would need before open your heart you could.” He turned his head to look up at Obi-Wan. “Heh, thought Vos you would trust in time I did. Still happen this might.” He poked Obi-Wan with a claw. “Young, attractive, trustworthy Vos is, but,” he shrugged. “If desire shriveled old lizard you do, argue I will not.”

“I have your old portrait on my friend wall, Master. You’re not shriveled.”

“Poor young man,” Yoda teased. “Got it bad you _do_. Tell me, so weird you thought find you I would. Find _me_ weird you do? Look weird I do? Sound weird? Hmm, smell weird?”

“No,” Obi-Wan remained solemn, despite the teasing. “I can’t remember a time I didn’t know you, so you were different, but it always felt normal. I’ve always been cautious around your claws, but not because I thought you would try to hurt me. One of the docents had long nails, and I was careful around her because she would sometimes scratch us by accident, so I was careful around you too, but it wasn’t weird. You are smaller than humans, and it seemed when I was small that I’d never be taller than you, and then I was, but you were a grownup, so I knew you would stay the size you are. You’ve always been green, and had different features, but many of my clanmates were not human, so you never seemed weird.” He paused, thinking. “You always smelled like books and ink and tea, and I think yourself. It’s different, but not weird.” He shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve carried you around, I lived in your home, you smell like you.”

“Hmm,” Yoda sounded content. “Not weird to me you are, not weird to you I am. Good match we could be.” He was quiet for a moment, letting it sink in. “Comfortable you are?”

“I think so.” Obi-Wan looked up at the ceiling rather than bend his neck to look at the master. “I feel much less anxious, and less out of control. I’m concerned about what will happen when the numbing effect wears off.”

“Thinking ahead you are,” Yoda began rubbing at him again with his nails, very gently pushing at the edges of his comfort zone. “The wound starting to heal is, but hurt tomorrow it will. Less sharp it will be.”

“How badly did I injure myself?”

Yoda hugged him tightly, not letting go for several seconds, sending a sudden pulse of fierce love through their bond. The young knight started in surprise.

“Cut very deeply you did, but the root of the bond port still there is, the completed bond still there is. If continue to go deeper you had, start to damage your mind permanently you would. Harm your ability to make bonds you would. Harden your heart you would. Kill potentials with future lovers you would. Inhibit the bonds with your future padawans it would. Start to fray our bond it would. Very difficult to rebuild it would be, depending on the damage. As strong as before, it would probably be not.”

“Oh.”

“Understand you do why stop purging you must? For emergencies only it is, make it a habit not. One time only, recover from that well you can. Repeated purging changes the self does.” He rubbed Obi-Wan’s chest with a flat hand, sending comfort. “Understand I do, _trying_ to change yourself you were. Understand you do now, something wrong with you there was not?”

“I understand, Master. I’m still working on acceptance.”

“Hmm, take time that will.” He returned to just radiating calm acceptance. “If decide you do that a deeper bond you do not want, seal it we could, but remove it not. Heal it would, minimal harm this would cause. Mental exercises you might need to ensure that grow back it does not. Help you with that Vygor could.” He took care to keep his voice neutral. “If want to use the bond port you do, allow the bond to form, still possible this is, but careful to not hurt you we must be. Let the port heal we could, let it grow back in a natural way. Grow back the same it might, or different it might be. Or expand we could on the bond we have, let the first bond grow, let the bond port become part of it as heals it does. Separate bonds they are not meant to be, the port a place is for the connection to grow. Next to the first bond it is so that grow together they can, so overlap they can. Or happen both might. If let the first bond grow we do, reform the bond port on its own might.”

“What happens to you?” Obi-Wan asked. “You said you don’t have this port in your head, so what happens to you? Do you feel anything?”

“Hmm, a good question that is. A bond port I do not have, but when quiet we are, feel the pull I now can.” He sighed, gently pressing his head against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Noticed this before I should have. Hurt my feelings were when shielded the bond you did. Deeper I should have looked instead of just releasing my hurt. Notice the pull I would have, figured it out sooner I could have. Told you I did, not the only person in this room who mistakes makes you are. Saved us both much upset this could have.”

“Maybe we just have to forgive each other and forgive ourselves?”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded. “Wiser you are than you think.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Yoda sighed. “If seal over the bond port we do, keep at a distance we must until healed it is. Send you to Trell we might, for the distance, for the injury not. Put you to work the masters would. Once stable the seal is, hmm, our friendship resume we could.” His voice was solemn. “Insulted I will not be, understand I will.”

“But?”

“Yes, _but_ ,” Yoda sighed. “A regret it would not be, but a lost opportunity instead. Process it I would while away you would be. Accept it I would, but process it instantly I would not. Process I must, no matter what choice you make. A small pain it would be, yes, but choose to spare me pain you must not. Told you I did, old I am. Handle it I can.”

“And if I choose something else?”

“Happen to me what will?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Hmm, then keep loving you I will, but in a different way. Expectations I do not have, strife I expect not.” He shrugged. “Attachment forbidden still is. If too attached you become, end the deep relationship we must.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan sounded overwhelmed. “If . . . if we didn’t seal it,” he couldn’t quite commit to saying more. “What could we do to avoid attachment?” He breathed quietly, still turning over the problem in his mind. “I know Master Jinn was not attached to me, and I was too attached to him, but . . . is there a path between indifference and attachment where love can exist?”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded against him. “Difficult sometimes it is, but rewarding also. Love and attachment the same are not. Attachment grow from hate can as easily as from love.”

“Like Xanatos.”

“Yes,” Yoda chuckled. “Virgin you may be, but fool you are not. Observant you have been.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, moving them both. “That one was hard to miss.”

“Key steps to stay grounded there are, to stay unattached. First, rush not. Talk out things. Make assumptions not.” He raised his head, waiting for Obi-Wan to look him in the eyes. “A problem this is not. Once get you talking we do, honest you are. A good sign this is, good progress. Jump into bed with the Grandmaster you have not. Take the leap you have not just because both of us love do. Time for that later there is. Establish the terms first we must.”

“That does seem kind of rash, Master.”

Yoda snorted. “For a casual relationship, okay that is. For deep love, for a deep bond, risky that is. So yes, talk we must. Lots.”

“Okay.”

“Also meditations and exercises there are. Some psychology exercises are, some Force or bond exercises are. Consider our roles we must, accept in our minds the limitations Jedi have. Know you do, send you to death someday I might have to. Want to I never will, but keep you safe in the Temple I cannot either. The will of the Force that is not. Fair to you it is not. Take us from each other the Force may ask, by death or by duty. The exercises help to process painful things, so if come to pass they do a shock it is not. Train you they do to act with thought and the Force, with your emotions not. Still hurt it will, but train we do so objective we can be, so overwhelmed by emotions we are not.”

“Are they like the separation exercises between master and padawan?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes and no. A similar purpose there is, allow for the bond to grow free of attachment it does, but the focus of the attachment different is. Also, suspect we do that use the exercises with you correctly Master Jinn did not. Used them he did to keep you at armslength we think, free you from attachment it did not.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan made a mental note to discuss it with Vygor.

“Teach you I can. Classes there are also, and group meditations. Books also. The first Jedi with this concern you would be not.”

“I suppose not, but there are many stories of Jedi who fell victim to attachment.”

“Yes, a path to the Dark Side attachment can be. A path to pain, strife, and suffering it can be. But many Jedi live and love with bad outcomes not. Some like Qui-Gon are, a primary partner they have, but exclusive they are not. Some like Yan are, no primary partner, but multiple partners he had, with commitment to none. Some have a monogamous partner, live together they might, but on separate missions they go, separate lives they have. Some pair with their working partners do, very careful they must be. Attachment can form from habit as much as from love.”

“Is that why I was too attached to Master Jinn? Because I was around him so much and was accustomed to having him?”

“Not quite. Habit the root of problem was not. Manipulative to you he was. Cold he was. Isolated you he did. Take his love for granted you could never. Withhold affection he did, approval he withheld also. Affirmation he gave you not, and prevent you from getting it elsewhere he did. Much love in you there is to give, greedy for it he was, but give it to you in return he would not. An unhealthy need to please him you had, exploit this he did. Began this when a child you were, stop it you could not, but growing beyond it now you are, every day. Some attachment in a padawan for their master normal is. A mentor they are, a guide they are. Vows to each other made you had. But a vow to the Force you made also. Expect to be loved masters do, but also expected to temper attachment in self and help the padawan the same to do, not to manipulate the padawan into staying attached like Qui-Gon did, like Qui-Gon was with Xanatos. Protect himself he did at your expense. Time spent with me allowed you time to detach. Time it gave you to separate the will of Qui-Gon from the will of the Force. In love, care one must take to separate the will of the self, the desires of the self from the will of the Force you must. A good example of this Master Jinn is not.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan asked. “It wasn’t the will of the Force that he have lovers across the galaxy, or to step in to take someone from their home on every mission and expect the Jedi or the Republic or their government to foot the bill?”

Yoda snorted. “Good thing that Dooku he was not. Bankrupted Serrano would be.” They both giggled.

“I know that Master Jinn could have a generous heart, even if he didn’t feel that way toward me. I want to ensure I’m not attached, but I don’t want to be cold. I don’t want to treat you the way I’ve been treating you.”

“Hmm, so honest be. Fear telling me the truth do not. Even if choose a deeper bond you do not, rather have honest relationships with you I would then have you in my life not. Your friendship very dear to me is, but if asked to give you up I am, do it I will. Hurt it will, but do as the Force asks I must. A Jedi I am.” He sighed. “Allow myself attachment I do not, but very easy to love you are.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan sounded genuinely confused. “I’m prickly and uncertain, I’m prone to anxiety. I don’t have any experience with love, and I have made commitments that keep me away from you.”

Yoda chuckled. “Raised Yan Dooku I did. Loving you a walk in the gardens would be. Shy you are, cautious you are. Prickly you are not if know right way to approach you I do.” He stroked down Obi-Wan’s arm, pleased when the young man did not squirm in response, but made a pleased noise instead. “Like a bristle cat you are. Pet it the wrong way and hurt it will, but rub it the _right way_ ,” he stroked down Obi-Wan’s arm again, gratified when the young man closed his eyes against the sensation. “Mmm, then rewarding it is.” He pressed himself gently against the knight. “Feel good that does?”

“Yes.” He sounded puzzled.

“Trust me you do. Love me you do. Open your mind you have, lowered your defenses you have. Told you I did, trust you needed. So worried you were that strange you are, but,” he stroked down Obi-Wan’s arm again. “Work just fine your mind, your body, your heart, your lust does if trust you have.” Yoda sighed against him. “Very confusing this must have been.”

“Confusing, frightening. Isolating.”

“Alone you are not.” Yoda resisted the urge to stroke him again, he had been thoroughly enjoying Obi-Wan’s pleasure through their bond, but this was still Obi-Wan’s choice to make. “Know you do, what you want?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I don’t. I know I don’t want to cut myself off from you again. It hurt. It was lonely, and bleak, and . . . I didn’t understand why at the time, but it felt wrong in the Force.”

“Hmm, feel that you can?” Yoda asked.

“Yes. Pulling away felt wrong in the Force, but _not_ pulling away felt wrong . . . every other way. I don’t know if the Force is trying to draw me to you but pulling away still feels wrong.”

“A bond port in your brain you have. The Force drawing us together is.”

“But I cut it out from fear and you never had one. Is it pulling us still?”

“The Force pulling you toward an opportunity is, toward a choice it is. Decide the Force cannot for you.”

“This isn’t an easy path.”

“Easy to walk it is not, but a battle it is not either.”

“People might talk. I’m much younger than you are in terms of life experience. I may harm your credibility, even if we are discreet.”

“Hmm, yes. Mocked you might be if choose to ride the Green Dragon you do.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes at the euphemism. “It wouldn’t be the first time I was accused of that,” he admitted.

“Know this I do.”

Obi-Wan grew still. “I always hoped you hadn’t heard.”

“An old man I am, heard it before I have. Teased I was about sleeping with Grandmaster Nehi, but the same species we were, more friendly the teasing was.” He resettled against the knight. “Hostile your peers might be. Hostile my peers might be.”

“Would this upset the Council?”

“For loving me? No.” Yoda patted him reassuringly. “Lovers most Council members do have. Discretion is preferred, flaunt a relationship we must not. A good example I must be. But keeping this a secret is required not. Expect surprise from them I do, tease me they might, but upset they will not be. Question you some of them might. The Grandmaster I am. Ensure that coerced you were not they will want to be.”

“Because I’m a virgin or because they think I’m a child?”

“Because a young man you are, a junior colleague. Check up on each other we do. A child they don’t think you are, but if choose to be with this old lizard you do, be sure by your choice it is they will want to be.” He gave Obi-Wan another encouraging pat. “A knight you are, killed a Sith you did. Think you are a child they do not. Except for Yaddle. Still thinks Mace is a teenager she does. Finally Simet a young adult she thinks is.”

Obi-Wan could not quite suppress his smile. Yaddle treated almost everyone like a child. She treated Yoda like an older brother who was reluctantly tolerated. There were always Jedi who assumed Yoda and Yaddle were a couple simply based on species, but having seen them together, Obi-Wan had thought this was not the case.

“You have other lovers.” It was not a question.

“I do.”

“Would this upset them?”

Yoda lifted his head to gaze at the knight, considering the question. “Romantic love you seek, sex only not, yes?” He could feel the young man gather his courage.

“Yes. I feel deep love for you. I did before the lustful thoughts began.”

Yoda lowered his head with a sigh. “My current lovers casual are. Romantic not. A romantic lover for a long time I have had not. But feel that for you also I do. Some mind will not. Happy for me they will be but continue to be a casual lover they will want. Others, hmm, more recent they are. Jealous they might be, but the source of the problem _you_ would be not. A problem with others _you_ would have?”

Obi-Wan was silent, seriously considering it. “I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like what you’ve suggested. But . . . I don’t think I would have a problem with it. I’m not jealous now. I don’t feel possessive of you. You’re Master Yoda, you were always a gift in my life that was shared. And I wouldn’t ask you for monogamy, even if we choose . . . to move forward. I have no skills or experience. I’m keenly aware that I cannot satisfy your sexual desires on my own and I’m only home rarely. I know my own sex drive is much lower than average, or it usually is anyway. I would not expect I would be enough for you and I would fail to meet your needs by myself.”

“Hmm.” Yoda took a moment to digest this. “Prefer me to have other lovers you would?”

“I think so,” Obi-Wan replied. “I want you to be happy, Master, to have a healthy and fulfilled life.”

“Hmm, take other lovers you will?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I still haven’t decided on _you_ , Master, much less anyone else. I can barely wrap my mind around that concept. The idea of being with _other people_ , I . . . I can’t imagine trusting anyone else enough to do so. At least not right now.”

“Hmm, yes. A big step this would be. No one else close enough to you is. If share a deep love with me you do, accept my other lovers you must. If share this relationship we do, require you to take other lovers I will not, but request I do that an open mind you keep.” He pressed his hand into Obi-Wan’s chest, right against his heart. “So much love in your heart there is. If find another to share yourself with, if find another to trust you do, take the chance you can. Lose my love you will not if share your light with others you do. Desire you I do, own you I do not. Sworn to the Jedi and the Force you have your life, your service, your faith. To promise your sexual fidelity I do not ask, ask for your honesty only I would. If want only one lover now you do, just me, acceptable this is also, if accept you can that monogamous I am not.”

Obi-Wan was quiet, feeling their bond, feeling the Force. “It doesn’t bother me. You’re Master Yoda. It would not occur to me to deny others your light.” He frowned, not sure he was explaining it adequately, so he sent some of his still mixed up feelings across the bond.

“Hmm,” Yoda examined the emotions, untangling them from each other. “Jealous you are not. Relieved you are that others there are to satisfy me.” He chuckled. “Desire I have, but a sex fiend I am not. Still have two hands I do. And two feet, but flexible as in my youth I no longer am. Hmm, grateful you are to share my love. Careful you must be, undervalue yourself you do. Your love for me a precious gift is. My love for you, runs deep it does. Dear you are to me, less loved you are not.”

“But I’m just . . . me.”

“Not _just_ you. _You_ you are. Just nothing.” Yoda hugged him tight. “When eight hundred years you live, a love of your life you do not have. Too long live without your love you might. The first love I had, gone so long now is, the only one left I am to remember a warm smile and a loving heart. Forget them never I have, but the only love in my life they are not. Told you I did, rare my species is. Find a great lover of my own kind I never did. A short life you have. Still young you are. Love you less for this I will not.”

“I’m sorry you have to lose so many people in your life, Master.”

“Strong in the Force I am,” Yoda sighed. “Sometimes return they do, feel them I can.” He could sense Obi-Wan consider this carefully, but the young man didn’t question him.

“If someone comes along, who you used to love, or just someone you love more than me, I’ll understand, whether you want to keep me as a lover or not.”

“Monogamy I can promise you not. Give my love for you to someone else I never will. Love others I do. Love others I will. Love others you will I hope. Lovers for life we may not be, but take away my love for you no one will.”

“I can’t imagine not loving you, Master Yoda, even if I should temper it, but I don’t know what will happen over time. I don’t know if this is a fluke, or if this is long-lasting. I’ve never done this before.”

“Know that no one does. But know I do that the love for you I have is for you, decided by others it is not. Try to have lovers who understand this I do. Jedi we are, love each other we can, but put a lover above the Force we cannot. Put a relationship before our duty we cannot.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan bit back a sigh. “Is there something I’m keeping you from? I’ve taken up a lot of your time already.”

“Hmm, supposed to interrogate an unbalanced young knight I was. Untangle a big, emotional mess I planned to. Caved quickly he did, take long it did not. Extra time I have.”

“I need to be careful not to monopolize your time.”

“Schedule with Eller we can. Very efficient she is.”

Obi-Wan snorted.

“Schedules rest time for me she does. Thinks she does that work too hard I do.”

“ _I_ think you work too hard.”

“A Jedi life it is. Meditation helps.” He pressed against the knight again. “Lovers help too.”

“I’ve probably caused you more stress than anything. Particularly in recent times.”

“Hmm, yes. Worry me very much you did. Being with you, feeling you calm, returning toward your balance, much better it is.”

“I don’t think I’m returning to balance, Master.”

“Done yet you are not. Much less fear you have, much less anguish. A big improvement this is. Balanced you are not yet but twisting in the wind you are not.”

“Yes.”

“Still afraid you are?”

“Yes.”

“Fear what you do?”

“Change. Making the wrong decision. Messing everything up again. What could happen.”

Yoda shrugged. “Your fears normal are. Choices you have, some undone cannot be. Simple they are; do or do not. But told you I did, my love you will have, no matter your choice. Only one command I have, stop hurting yourself you must.”

Obi-Wan was silent. Yoda could sense him reaching for the Force, not only seeking guidance, but willing himself to accept the answer.

Yoda closed his eyes, determined to accept whatever decision Obi-Wan might make, now or in the future. As they had been laying together, the Force had offered him tantalizing clues as to the ripple effects of going forward, but Obi-Wan had so many fears, so many traumas and scars, and this whole thing had gone so badly wrong in the young man’s mind that a refusal was very, very likely. Obi-Wan had been starved for love for so long, did the loneliness feel safer now?

“Master?”

“Yes, Obi-Wan?” Yoda’s ear twitched and swiveled in the knight’s direction. He felt the young man take a deep breath beneath him, like a rising wave on the ocean. A decision of some sort had been made.

“When we were in the shower room . . . you kissed me.”

“I did.” Yoda wondered if he should apologize again as the young man took another deep breath, another wave on the ocean.

“Can we . . . can we try that again, but without the . . . the,”

Yoda pushed himself up to look Obi-Wan in the eye and the young man ground to a halt, still very uncertain, but like many times before, facing the unknown and trying hard to be brave.

“With my tongue not?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan was blushing but looked him in the eye.

_Decision made. Small steps._

“Yes. Do that again we can.” Yoda pulled himself into a sitting position, tucking his legs in and planting his hands on the knight’s chest, smiling gently at him. “Promise I do, a better kiss this time it will be.”

“It wasn’t bad before,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Just . . . overwhelming. And I was very,” he struggled to explain. “Anxious.”

Yoda slid closer, then reached out a hand to trace Obi-Wan’s features, brushing along his eyebrows, tracing his nose, stroking his cheekbone. “Wound up you were, able to experience it you were not. Hurt your feelings, frighten you trying to do I was not.”

“I know.”

Slowly, in increments, Yoda leaned in closer, waiting for Obi-wan to adjust to his proximity. “Afraid you do not have to be. Love you I do. This kiss a test is not. Know your heart now I do. Kiss you I do to show you that love you I do. Kiss You I do to give you pleasure I do. If like it not, stop we can.”

Gently, he passed his fingers down over Obi-Wan’s eyes, silently telling him to close them. “Feel the Force. Feel the bond. Feel my love.” The intact bond between them flared to life, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught, his lips just barely open. Yoda kissed him.

It was clear Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what to do, but as in many things, he was a quick learner, cautiously kissing back, feeling the sensations from his nerves and the bond. The master was thorough, giving him time to feel this new experience before gently pulling away, kissing him on the cheek as well before he sat up again, eyes twinkling as Obi-Wan’s feelings were fed back to him through the bond.

“Bad not?”

“It, it felt good. Like when you stroke my hair, but more intense, with more sensations than just touch.”

Yoda smiled down at him, ears curling and uncurling, eyes bright. “To kiss more you want?” He could feel Obi-Wan’s heartbeat had quickened with the first kiss. Shy though he was, he was definitely not repulsed by intimacy with someone he trusted. “Make out like teenagers we could.” He leaned in close. “Keep my tongue to myself I will.”

Obi-Wan blushed and Yoda could feel the heat on his skin. “Is that going to . . . to bore you?”

“No,” Yoda chuckled. “My other lovers casual are. Most kiss me enough do not.” He leaned in close again, twisting his body so his knees pressed into Obi-Wan’s chest. “Bored I will not be. If want my tongue later you do, tell me you can.” He kissed his beloved knight again, pleased when the young man lifted his head to meet him, a lifetime of being starved for touch and affection urging him to open his mind more, his body thrilling to the gentle, chaste kisses.

Yoda pulled away, smiling as Obi-Wan gasped for air. “Trust me you _do_ ,” he affirmed.

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan lowered his head, slowing his breathing, trying to maintain a calmer state. He wasn’t quite anxious, and wasn’t quite excited, and he still wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was rather surprised to be enjoying it.

“Still good you are?”

“Yes, Master.” He flexed his fingers cautiously. Sometime during their last kiss he had moved his hand until his fingertips just brushed Yoda’s arm. He had seen enough holocinema features to have some idea of what to do with his hands if he had been kissing a human but was less sure of what he should do when kissing someone less than half his size.

Yoda glanced down at his hand, smiling. “Allowed to touch back you are. Gentle you should be, tiny I am, but break I will not if want to touch me you do.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his fingers back and forth along Yoda’s sleeved arm. “Where do you, um, want me to touch?” He frowned. “I don’t want to be rude or hurt you, or . . . or do something you don’t want, or . . . do something too . . . exciting.”

Yoda snorted. “Move too fast you do not want?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Hmm,” he sat up and held his hand up to his chest, as if demonstrating a height. “Everything above here, okay to touch is. Gentle with my ears be. Feel good the touch will but lead to more it will not.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan looked a bit nervous, but interested.

Yoda leaned down and propped his head up on one hand, stroking Obi-Wan’s hair with the other, blinking slowly as the young man gently ran his fingers further up his arm. “Enjoy touching you I do. Enjoy your touch I do.” He pressed back as Obi-Wan’s hand slowly traveled up to his shoulder and brushed his neck before resting gently on the back of his head. Yoda made a purring sound, leaning up to press his head back into Obi-Wan’s palm.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan sounded surprised. “Your hair is very soft.”

“Mmmm,” Yoda had closed his eyes, relishing the touch. “Better hair I used to have. Warm hands you have, feel good that does.” Obi-Wan carefully used his fingers to ruffle the half-ring of downy white hair at the base of Yoda’s skull. Yoda sighed, and his face flushed, turning a brighter, deeper shade of green, warming to Obi-Wan’s touch. He curled and uncurled his ears contentedly.

“Is that okay?” Obi-Wan asked, careful not to brush his ears by accident.

“Very good it is,” Yoda sighed, gently squeezing his forearm. “Gentle you are, be afraid not.” Yoda continued to enjoy the scalp massage, making a variety of low, pleased sounds, before he opened his eyes and lay back down on his stomach so they were face to face. “Still afraid you are?”

“A little. More nervous than afraid. It’s very . . . it’s a lot to take in and process.”

Yoda sighed. “Harder sometimes it is when older you are. Get in the way your brain can. Fully developed it is.” He chuckled. “Worry less young people do. More hormones than brains they have.”

“Are you saying I overthink things?” It was a familiar question.

“Yes!” Yoda poked him in a ticklish spot, grinning. “Makes you a good negotiator it does. Think things through you do. Hard for you to rely on your feelings it is, to follow your instincts, but do it you can.” He rubbed the spot he had poked, soothing it. “Doing fine you are. Boring this old lizard you are not.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan gave him a tentative smile. Obi-Wan carefully reached out, running a fingertip over Yoda’s face the way the master had done to him. Yoda closed his eyes, content.

“Strange do I feel?”

“No.” Obi-Wan traced a finger along his cheek, feeling his lover’s skin. “I really don’t touch people often, and those I do aren’t all human. And I’ve held your hands before. Your skin is a little cooler than I was expecting.”

“Run cooler than humans I do. Just a little. Warm humans feel to me, very nice to lay on they are.”

Obi-Wan smiled at the comment, tracing his fingers over the ridges above Yoda’s eyes. “So you like me for my body temperature.”

“Hmm, yes. Also carry me well you do.” Yoda snorted. “Your mind I enjoy. A good conversationalist you are. A good sense of humor you have. A courageous heart. A gentle nature. A sharp tongue you have sometimes, goes with your sharp mind it does. Keeps me on my toes it does.” He opened his eyes as Obi-Wan’s finger slid down his nose, ghosted over his lips, then stroked over his chin. “Beautiful eyes you have.”

“So do you.”

Yoda chuckled. “Got it bad you _do_.” He reached out, stroking over Obi-Wan’s cheek again, pleased when the ghost of Qui-Gon’s touch did not reappear. “Very expressive your eyes are. Very nice colors they are. Look different they do in different lights, with your different moods. Sometimes the Force shows things to me it does. Scenes of the past, of possible futures. See you sometimes I do, your eyes give you away do. Recognize you I do. Told you I did, long ago, a Jedi knight you would be. A child you were then but saw your eyes in the knight you are now.”

“You did?” Obi-Wan seemed stunned. “That wasn’t just something you told me so I wouldn’t give up?”

“No,” Yoda leaned in to kiss him again. “Told you I did because doubts you had. Surrounded you were by guides who see your light could not. Trust in the Force you did, but old you were getting, doubts you had. Hoped I did that trust me you would over others who see you for what you are could not.”

“I did trust the Force, Master. That worked fine until it told me I’d be set to the Agri Corp. I knew it was only a possible future, but . . . I knew I was no one special, and I knew my chances were running out.”

“Told me this you did not.” Yoda lay his head against Obi-Wan’s neck. “Both correct we were.”

“I thought you already knew. Initiates were sent every year.”

“Yes. Hard to let them go it is. Let your father go we did. Some dreams stay dreams do, good and bad.”

“I know. Sometimes we choose, sometimes we don’t get to choose.”

“Lie to you about that I would not. For some children the future cloudy is, for some very clear it is. Clear the Force was for you, even when a small child you were. A Jedi heart you have. Told us it did, train you to be a knight we should. Possibility it was for you a monk to be also. Strong visions you have. Waste your talents on a farm I would not have.” He felt a bit of incredulousness through their bond as he nuzzled gently at his lover’s neck.

“Master, you _did_ send me to the Agri Corp.”

“Yes, wrong your dreams were not.” He felt the knight squirm a bit at the sensations and backed off a bit. “A one-way ticket it was not. If get his head out of his ass Qui-Gon had not, sent for you I would have.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “But I was sent away early because I fought with Bruck Chun.”

“A punishment that was not,” Yoda sighed. “Fought with the initiates all the time Bruck did. Targeted the oldest initiates he did, saw them as rivals he did. Letting you shine he was not. Sent you with Qui-Gon so see your light he could.”

“And if he didn’t, you’d have to let me be a novice when I got old enough?”

Yoda could feel warm gratitude that he wouldn’t have been resigned to the Agri Corp forever. He sat up and stared the young man down. Obi-Wan wondered what he had said wrong and was startled to realize his neck was wet.

“Kriff, no,” Yoda rolled his eyes. “Backup plan I had. Come home right away you would have. Plan A: do as the Force says, get you with Qui-Gon, for the best hope. Plan B: bring you home, other master you would go with. The match less strong in the Force was, but _not_ train you to be a knight? No. The Force very clear was. Trained you would be.”

“Oh.” He seemed very surprised the Force had been so clear about it. “My instructors and the docents always implied there were no interested masters.”

“If do again, Plan B I would have gone with.” He laid back down, nosing at Obi-Wan’s neck again. “Even if this joy I would have now not. Good to you he was not when needed him you did.” He huffed, his breath warm, making the knight’s skin tingle. “Kriffing ronto anus he was. If go back in time I could, Plan E I would do now before send you to him I would.” The master sighed, releasing the residual anger. “Even the Grandmaster know the future cannot. See possibilities only I can.”

“It’s alright, Master Yoda.” He reached up and ruffled Yoda’s hair again. “I don’t regret my path to knighthood, and . . . I think being here with you now is where I’m supposed to be.”

Yoda pressed against him and purred deep in his chest. “Hmm, wise young man you are.”

“Do I want to know what Plan E was?”

Yoda laughed, the last of his anger melting away. “Plan E to bully Simet into taking you was. Still active he was then, but no longer the Battlemaster he was. Help he would have needed, but a good master he could have been. Learn Breggle sooner you would have, understand your heart he could have. Keep him young you would have. All the cooking you would have had to do.”

Obi-Wan was quiet. “That would have been different.”

“The best plan it was not. A field Jedi I thought best for you, but let you be a farmer I would not. Your father you are not.”

“Well, I probably won’t be making any surprise contributions to the creche.”

Yoda snorted. “Bonus of you being lizard not.”

They both laughed.

“Good to hear you laugh it is.” He nuzzled again, running a hand over Obi-Wan’s neck on the other side. “Touching your neck, feel good it does?”

“I think so. Yes. I _ooh_ ,” the knight jerked suddenly as a sensitive spot was brushed. “It’s a bit intense sometimes.”

Yoda soothed him. “No fear I sense in you.”

“I know you won’t hurt me, Master. At least not in these circumstances.”

“Hmm, startle you might, but still talking you are. Good that is.” He lay his head back down in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck, sighing as the knight slowly let his fingers explore. “Boring you I am?”

“No.” Obi-Wan sounded a bit surprised. “This is very pleasant. Very comforting.”

“Do this much you have not? Being close, gentle touching?”

“Do missions to Hoth count?”

Yoda snorted. “No. Even Yan cuddled on Hoth did.”

“So did Master Jinn, but we were sharing warmth with a tauntaun. I got the tail.”

“A tauntaun decided Knight Yoda a kit was. Stuck me in her pouch she did. Stayed warm I did. Smelled awful it did.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t freeze to death. Why did they send you to Hoth? Your size would make it so hard to stay warm.”

“Ship malfunction there was. Emergency landing. Two weeks until rescued I was. Recommend it I do not. Take me to a research station the tauntaun did. Grateful I was, but the smell I forgot never.”

“I’m glad I smell better.” Cautiously, he let his fingertips drift closer to the base of Yoda’s ear. Yoda made another purring sound and pressed back against his touch.

“The tauntaun warmer was, but a better cuddler you are.”

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “The feeling is mutual.” He smiled and it came through in his voice. “I really didn’t think I would enjoy this. Just being close and kissing.”

“Close we have been before. Pressed against each other not but touched before we have.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan remembered nights when he had cried out his sorrows in this room, shared meditations at sunrise on the balcony, and evenings in the sitting room, watching the holonews or just sitting together as he sought to quiet his mind and find peace during turbulent times. “You were always gentle if I was hurting or wounded. It was safe to be imperfect with you.”

“Told you many times I have, perfect you do not have to be. Ask that the Force does not, ask that the Jedi do not. Follow a Dark path you should not, let yourself attached do not be. Push you hard Qui-Gon did, push yourself harder you do. Learning you are, ask for help you can. A weakness it is not. Growing much you are.”

“Progress.”

“Yes.”

“You really thought it was right to train me?”

Yoda could feel through their bond that Obi-Wan had spent most of his apprenticeship feeling as if he were barely meeting his objectives when he didn’t feel hopelessly behind. This bright soul had spent so long chained up in his doubts but had still managed to fly. Not for the first time, he was grateful the young man had chosen not to train Skywalker. This lack of self-confidence would have doomed them, sabotaging a child with so much power, so desperate to hide his own insecurities. And he would have done it anyway, giving up even more of himself for his master because he had never been offered an alternative.

“Yes. Told you I did, a Jedi heart you have. Saw you as a knight I could when still in the creche you were. Rare that is, but very, very clear it was. Wallace Clearing the only master to see great potential in you is not. Cin does. Si does. Even Qui-Gon catch glimpses of it could, but frightened him it did. Dreamed so much for Xanatos he had, and all burned to ash it was. Growing you are. Coming into your own, coming into flower you are. Cautious you are but be afraid not. Grow into your power you will, stumble sometimes you will, but steer me wrong the Force did not. Worth it you have always been.”

“Even when I was small, you were always one of the few Jedi who seemed to believe I could be a knight.”

“Others there were, but the Force drawing you to Qui-Gon was. Let go of your doubt. The role you have to play I know not, but a Jedi born to be you were.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan was quiet for a long time. “Since I was a child?”

“Yes.”

“But I made mistakes. I didn’t impress the masters and knights. I . . . I tried to leave the Order.”

“Mortal you are. Normal that is. Learned from your mistakes you did.” Yoda wasn’t sure how kissing had led to this particular topic, but suspected Obi-Wan’s deepening trust and doubts might be the culprits. “To doubt your status you do not need. Doubt my love you do not need. Doubt my faith in you, you should not. Very experienced I am.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you when I tried to leave. I wasn’t trying to break the Code or abandon your teachings.”

“Trying to follow them you were.” Yoda looked him in the eye. “Know this I do. An important lesson it was for you. A lesson about choices and consequences it was. A difficult form the lesson took. Still wish I do that learn that lesson in a different way you had. Such a hard road to travel you had. So many things learned you did, but so many for you to unlearn there still are.” He stroked his hand over Obi-Wan’s face, cherishing the new intimacy between them. “Remember always, for choices consequences there are, but your guilt let go of you should. Forgave you long ago I did.”

Through their bond he felt something loosen deep inside the younger man. Obi-Wan would not let go of his guilt just yet, he might never be able to completely, but he had permission to. It didn’t have to be an anchor holding him down or a wall between them anymore.

“I don’t want to disappoint you again.”

“Hmm, if my lover you become, disappoint each other we will. Poodoo happens. Delayed your transport will be. Run late Council meetings will. Too busy we will get sometimes. Sleep you will need. Empty pantry I will have. Leave your socks in the ‘fresher you will.”

“I left socks in the ‘fresher?”

Yoda wiggled his toes, eyes sparkling. “Not yet.” He leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan on the bridge of his nose, sending reassurance. “Disappointments happen will. Balance they will bring to pleasures and joy.” He tugged gently on the hair growing where Obi-Wan’s padawan braid had been, a familiar expression of affection. “Disappoint each other we will. A disappointment _you_ are not.”

Obi-Wan looked away. “Are you sure? You’ve been very patient with me.”

“Worth the wait you are. Even if only this we share.”

Obi-wan gave him a skeptical look. He was a virgin, but it wasn’t as if he had no idea what sex entailed.

“Feel your love I can, through our bond, and in the Force. Warm my heart on lonely nights this will, much more than memories of physical love.”

Obi-Wan reached out to stroke Yoda’s hair again. “Are you just saying that so you won’t scare me away?”

“No,” Yoda chuckled. “Strong in the Force I am. The strongest sense of mine it is. Stronger than sight, hearing, touch, smell, taste it is. Feel you in the Force I can. Touch my mind you do.” He tweaked the bond gently, purring as the knight beneath him gasped at the sensation, the pleasure from the contact growing as his brain became attuned to it. “Sharing physical love with me already you are. More that is than anything I thought to have with you. A gift in my life you are. Worry not about going slow. Savor the experience do.”

Yoda settled back down against Obi-Wan’s chest, curling his toes in delight when he felt warm lips brush against the top of his head.

“Mmmm, good that feels.” He could feel the young man smile before he lay his head back down. He shifted closer as Obi-Wan’s hand cautiously explored, moving over his head, his shoulders, gently stroking along his ears. Yoda sighed contentedly, letting his lover know he enjoyed his touch.

Obi-Wan lay on the floor mat and closed his eyes, focusing on touch, feeling soft hair, warm skin and a brilliant Force presence, the experience familiar and utterly new at the same time. He kept himself calm, making a study of these new sensations, but new feelings simmered below the surface, warmth flowing from the bond and seeping into his mind, slowly growing into more.

After a time, Yoda moved to face his lover, stroking a finger over his lips. “Good this feels?” He could sense Obi-Wan was not uncomfortable, in fact he was adapting well to the new experience.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan smiled softly under his touch. “I trust you,” he affirmed.

“Kiss you again I may?” He stroked his finger over Obi-Wan’s cheek, seeing only love and trust in his eyes. No fear. No shame.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan looked a bit uncertain. “Did you, um, want to use your tongue?”

Yoda smiled as he stroked Obi-Wan’s face, reassuring him. “Enjoy tasting you I will but wait for that I can.” He winked mischievously. “Already I know that taste good you do.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do if you put your tongue in my mouth. They didn’t cover that in health class.”

Yoda laughed outright. “Do what last time you did not. A smaller room this is. The wall you would hit. A concussion you need not.”

Obi-Wan glanced at the wall less than a meter from his head. “That would be a bad idea, yes.”

“Heh,” he kissed Obi-Wan’s cheek, feeling slight apprehension through the bond, but also curiosity. “Gentle I can be if want to try you do. Stop we can.” He slid his fingers along Obi-Wan’s cheekbone, then caught his earlobe between a finger and thumb, rubbing gently. “Show you I can.”

To Yoda’s amusement, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached out to the to the Force for guidance, but he could feel the young man was taking this new experience seriously, not letting his anxieties get in the way, but remaining cautious.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. “Can we go slow? Just a little?”

“Yes,” Yoda’s ears curled, the only outward sign of his eagerness. “Inspect your tonsils I will not.”

They both laughed as Yoda pulled himself up to sit on Obi-Wan’s chest, leaning over his face. “Love you I still will, even if like this you do not.”

“I’ll still love you, whether I like it or not.”

“Good.” Yoda leaned down, kissing him sweetly for several moments before he gently slipped his tongue between his lover’s lips. Obi-Wan’s breath hitched beneath him, his heartrate quickening and Yoda felt the thrill of his own arousal as his lover shifted beneath him. Obi-Wan made a low, humming noise in his throat, startling at the feel of another’s touch in his mouth, but there was neither fear nor revulsion. Yoda caressed his lover’s tongue with his own, pleased to feel desire begin to slowly seep back over their bond. Obi-Wan tentatively touched back just before Yoda pulled away to nuzzle at his neck.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan gasped, a touch of wonder in his voice, and a trace of desire rippled across their bond, not an all-consuming fire, but a gentle caress, like effervescent bubbles in a fine, sparkling wine.

“Hmm,” Yoda kissed and licked at him, pleased. “Good that felt?”

“Yes.” His voice was hesitant, but not afraid. “It was strange, but good.”

“Mmm, good for me too it was.” He moved to lay down again, chest to chest, nuzzling along the V-neck of Obi-Wan’s tunics, breathing in his lover’s scent, hoping for a peek at the chest hair he knew lay hidden beneath the layers of cloth.

Obi-Wan’s breath had quickened in response to the gentle explorations. Very slowly his body began to awaken to the sensations, and he subconsciously sent another small ripple of desire down the bond. Yoda sent a little back, hotter and stronger than Obi-Wan was feeling, hoping to acclimate him to it without frightening him. With a grin he kissed his lover again, slipping in his tongue and wriggling in delight as his mind was tickled by another effervescent wave of desire, feeling as if the little bubbles were brushing all along his body. Beneath him, Obi-Wan hummed in pleasure. Yoda slipped a finger under Obi-Wan’s neckline, running it over his skin, pressing at his boundaries, but making no move to undress him.

Obi-Wan suddenly grunted in shock. Yoda sent an apology and reassurance through their bond as Obi-Wan abruptly pulled away from the kiss.

“Did you see it?” he whispered urgently, a jolt of fear running down the bond.

“See what I did?”

Obi-Wan had half sat up, eyes wide, scanning the room. “Someone’s out there,” he whispered again, nodding at the far wall. “They’re on the other side of the wall, and one’s in the kitchen.”

Yoda frowned, checking his quarters. It was possible for someone to come into the parlor despite the _do not disturb_ sign, but he had locked the interior door as was his habit. If someone had come in, they should have made noise. “Sense an intruder I do not.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, trying to find his calm between his fear and interrupted desire. “Are you sure?” He sounded more resigned than doubtful, trusting Yoda’s greater Force sense over his own.

“Here no one is now.” He frowned. “See someone in the Force you did?”

Obi-Wan lowered his head to the mat with a thump and covered his eyes. “That’s the _other_ reason I thought I might need to see a psychiatrist. I wasn’t sure if I was hallucinating or sensing something in the Force, but if you can’t see it . . .” He trailed off, apologetic.

“Hmm,” Yoda frowned down at him. “Let me into your mind you did. See signs of this I did not.” He looked over his shoulder toward the wall Obi-Wan had indicated. “What is it sensing you have been?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I saw figures behind the wall. Three or four of them. Tall.” He grimaced, feeling a little ridiculous. “One of the reached out with an arm, or a . . . tentacle.” He moved his hand to stare up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t see much from the kitchen, just that it was smaller. They’re gone now.”

Yoda frowned, puzzling over it. “What see before did you?”

Obi-Wan took a calming breath. “Sometimes when I’ve been meditating, I’ve heard a whistling sound in the Force. If others are around, they don’t seem to notice it. I don’t know if it’s really in the Force of just my mind playing tricks on me.”

“Hmm,” Yoda placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s head, sensing his brain. “Nothing wrong I can feel.” He turned to face the wall again. “How many there were?”

The young man grimaced, uncomfortable. “There were three or four . . . beings. Tall, thin, there may have been a short, squat one too.”

“Tentacle they had?”

“Yes, it seemed to be reaching toward us, but it was on the other side of the wall.”

Yoda’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “And in the kitchen saw someone you did?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” Yoda reached out with the Force to pick up the uneaten toast and cheese cubes, tracing a shape, turning the bread slices to face them on end, making narrow lines in his composition, which he positioned in front of the wall. “Shaped like this it was?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan sounded stunned. “But it was very bright.”

“Ah,” Yoda lowered the food back onto the tray. “See that before you have not?”

“No. Is it something in the Force?”

“Yes. In living room also it is.” Yoda started to giggle. “Be afraid not. Seeing my houseplants you are.”

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, incredulous. “But . . .” he could not deny there was a large cluster of potted plants in just that spot on the other side of the wall. “But there was a part that moved.” He sounded more confused than doubtful.

Yoda laughed harder. “A Force tendril that probably was. Do that sometimes Koli does. Feel my joy they can, want a taste they do.”

“Koli the _ficus_?” He knew Yoda was very close with his plants, but he only knew their names because their pots were labelled. He had never really bonded with his succulents himself.

“Yes!” Yoda flopped down against him, still giggling in delight.

“And the short one in the kitchen?”

“My herb box that is.” Yoda didn’t name the plants he ate.

Obi-Wan still looked a bit disturbed. “And Koli and his friends decided to show themselves _now_?” He actually seemed disappointed their intimacy had been so abruptly interrupted. “Did I upset them?”

Yoda broke out into fresh peals of laughter. “No! Always there they have been. See them now you did.”

“I did? Why?”

Yoda kissed his cheek reassuringly. “Discover the other reason for S-training you have.” He managed to quiet his chuckles with effort. “Starting to kindle desire you were. Starting to get aroused you were. Open your mind to the Living Force that can.” He tried to keep a straight face, but giggles still escaped. “Jerk off in the woods you never have?”

Obi-Wan looked vaguely disgusted by the idea of outdoor autoeroticism. “No.”

“Hee, hee. Books there are on that too. And the Passion Garden.” He sighed, serious again. “Teach you this Qui-Gon did not. Sex and masturbation open the mind to the Living Force can. Sex often more so, especially if lean toward the Unifying Force you do. Frighten many virgins this can, even without terrifying houseplants. Move the Force does with lovemaking, with sex. Frighten new lovers this can. So many Jedi very frightened of sex were. That’s why older masters teach younger Jedi do, so afraid of their own power they would not be.”

“So I finally found someone I wanted to kiss and I was terrorized by his ficus?”

Yoda snorted. “Eight hundred years old I am, good kisser I learned to be.” He smiled, gently rubbing his fingers on Obi-Wan’s chest. “Spoil the mood Koli did?”

Obi-Wan huffed. “I can’t believe I got freaked out by your container garden.”

“Sorry I am. Warned you I would have but live here you have. Thought I did that seen that before you would have.” He sighed. “How feel you?”

“Tense. I’m releasing my adrenaline response.”

“Yes, tense you are.” He ran his hand over Obi-Wan’s chest, feeling the competing energies coursing through his body. “Very tense you are. Release you need.”

“I _am_ trying, Master. Even if I’m not doing.”

Yoda chuckled, then leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Not that kind of release I meant.”

Obi-Wan looked at him quizzically. Yoda rolled his eyes then tapped at the young man’s thigh with his toes.

“Release down here,” he smirked, then tapped Obi-Wan’s head with his finger. “Not up here. Been through a lot today you have, many emotions. Your body all wound up is. Need to release your tensions you do. Help restore your balance it will.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan was quiet for a long moment, then gave Yoda a doubtful look as if he didn’t quite believe him. Yoda moved his brows suggestively. The knight chewed his lip, nervous. “Now?”

“Unpleasant your tension has become. Enjoying it you are not.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin this.” He started to sit up. “I can go home and um, meditate.”

Yoda gave him a sharp look and pressed his hand firmly into Obi-Wan’s chest, though he did not put any Force behind it. “Ruin nothing you did.” He leaned in close until they were eye to eye. “Nothing wrong you have done. Very brave you have been. Proud of you I am.” When Obi-Wan nodded and he was confident his point was made, Yoda leaned back, giving Obi-Wan enough space to be comfortable, but still sitting on his chest. “Yes, go home you could, polish your lightsaber there you could. Other options you have.”

“Other options?” Obi-Wan asked, as if he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

Yoda shrugged. “Go to the Passion Garden you could,” he teased. “Warn you I must, some of the trees there less polite than Koli are.”

“Um, _no_. I’ve had quite enough of gardening tonight, Master. Not to mention the _people_ in the Passion Garden.”

“Hmm, good point. Fond of the Passion Garden Qui-Gon is.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Don’t remind me.” He didn’t like to think about how much time his former master tended to spend ‘meditating’ there.

“Hmm, if alone time you need, available my shower is.” He smirked again. “Get comfortable with yourself before in there you have.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, blushing. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know that.”

Yoda snorted. “Good shields you had. Polite you were.”

“But you’re Master Yoda, so you just know anyway?”

Yoda laughed outright. “ _Now_ , with stronger bond, yes, just know I would. Back then, hmm, shield your mind in the ‘fresher you did. Normally just assume I would and politely ignore you I would have.” His expression grew serious and he patted the young man reassuringly. “Very depressed then you were, very stressed. Open myself to the Force I did, just a little. Checking I was that slitting your wrists you were not. Very relieved I was that taking care of yourself you were.” He gave Obi-Wan another apologetic look. “Watch you I did not, trying to be nosy I was not. Very controlled you are, in much pain you were. If give into despair you chose, . . . lose you to that I would not.”

“Oh, Master,” Obi-Wan reached up to cup Yoda’s face. “I told you I wouldn’t do that and not in your home.”

“Hmm, now you would not. Unrequited love the same as outright rejection is not. Older you are too. Lived through the latter you have, give you strength to deal with the former it has. But fault you I would not have.” He stroked his fingers lovingly through Obi-Wan’s hair. “A broken bond in your mind you had. Replaced you had been. Healing you needed and out of reach your knighthood was. Jedi turned or broken for less have.”

“I’m not upset,” he shrugged. “A little embarrassed, but not upset.” He glanced in the direction of the ‘fresher, not sure what to do.

“Additional choices you still have.”

“My right hand or my left hand?” Obi-Wan asked wryly.

Yoda chuckled. “Just your hands you use?” He lifted up his own foot, wiggling his toes. “Hmm, less flexible your feet are, even if acrobatics you do. Too bad. Useful it is.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “My legs aren’t that flexible either.”

Yoda tweaked Obi-Wan’s nose. “Seen you in action I have. Plenty flexible you are.”

“You’re a better judge of that than I am.”

“For now, yes.” He gave Obi-Wan another mischievous grin. “Already comfortable you are. Take care of yourself here you can. If privacy you want, leave you alone I can.” He shrugged. “If privacy you don’t want, stay here I can.” He sent a wave of love back through the bond. “Help you I can if want that you do.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. In his experience masturbation was by definition a solo activity.

Yoda looked amused. “Judge me by my size you do?” He held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. “Very skilled I still am.”

“No,” Obi-Wan was serious, and his eyes caught on Yoda’s claws, apprehensive. “I’m not sure what you had in mind, I don’t know why you’d want to, and I don’t know if I’ll . . . if it will work.”

Yoda gave him a challenging look. “Doubt me you do?”

“I, no, Master. I’m doubting myself. I don’t really, um, get erections from being around other people.”

“Oh?” Yoda feigned insult. “Dream of my wrinkled green ass you have not?”

“No.”

Yoda laughed again. “I know. See in your mind I have.” He kissed him on the cheek, expressing his love without making demands. “Feeling you in the Force I have been. Enjoy physical touch you can but touch your mind one must for desire to kindle. Trust you need, love you need, share that through bonds you do. Few strong bonds with others you have. Opened the bond we did, desire growing was inside you. Erection you had yet not, but hmm, getting aroused you were.” He patted Obi-Wan’s chest again. “If climax you can during self-pleasure, worry about it you should not.”

Obi-Wan looked away, embarrassed. “I don’t always climax during, um, personal meditations, but I don’t do them just for that. They’re um, beneficial regardless.”

“They are. Useful for finding your center they are, useful for maintaining your balance they are, good for relaxing the mind and body they are.”

“Yes, that’s a more frequent motivation for me.”

“Hmm, said you did that think of me during meditations you had. Climax you did?”

Obi-Wan tensed beneath him. “Once,” he admitted. “I stopped using that meditation after that. I had dropped out of the mediation the few times it had happened previously, but that last time,” he took a calming breath. “The last time thoughts of you entered my mind too close to stop it, and . . . it just happened.” He tensed at the memory. “I was losing control of myself and had to stop.”

Yoda stroked his face until Obi-Wan could look him in the eye. “Nothing shameful you have done. Already know I do that kindle desire in you I can. Good to hear it is that climax you can with thoughts of me.” He gave Obi-Wan a chaste kiss on the lips. “This old, green lizard a turn off for you is not.”

“No, Master,” Obi-Wan blushed. “You aren’t a turn off. I can feel you through the bond and,” he frowned, trying to explain.

“And want to lose contact right now you do not?”

“I don’t. Maybe I should. Maybe I should make myself release this tension some other way, but I was unbalanced and alone for so long and being with you now makes me feel more balanced and less afraid.”

“Good,” Yoda affirmed. “Starved for contact you have been, for so long. Starved for touch. Starved for affection. Know you do that need this you do, like a plant reaching for the sun. Be afraid of yourself not. Be afraid of your body not. Fear your own desire do not.” Yoda rubbed his chest, projecting comfort. “If my lover you choose to be, good it is that think of me during self-pleasure you do.” He leaned close, whispering. “If choose you for my lover I do, think of you I certainly will when climax I do.” He stroked over Obi-Wan’s face. “Bring me joy your love does. Thoughts of you make me feel good will. Remember your gentle touch I will, remember the brush of your mind, the feelings that shared we have, think of these when alone I am I will. Passion for you I will feel, celebrate that my body will.” He tapped Obi-Wan’s nose, smiling. “Pleasure myself I will with you in my mind, in my heart. When move through me the Force does, your name on my lips will be.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan sounded as if he hadn’t thought of this before. “You really find me . . . interesting enough? You think I’ll be enough to excite you like that?”

“Yes. Ignite passion in me you can. Worry about that you should not.” He picked at the cloth at the point of Obi-Wan’s collar. “Worried you are that excite you I cannot.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan made himself look Yoda in the eye, determined not to be ashamed of being different.

“The physical body tempts you not. Seduced with the mind you must be. Feel the connection you must.”

“I think so, yes.”

Yoda sent a warm wave of love down the bond, smiling as Obi-Wan closed his eyes, clearly feeling pleasure from the contact. He stroked his clawed hand down Obi-Wan’s neck before teasing under his tunic, making a pleased sound when Obi-Wan trembled in response.

“Hmm, feel good that did?”

“Yes.” He was slightly breathless.

“Hmm, yes. Touch your mind first your lover must. If feel love your mind can, very responsive your body becomes.” He stroked Obi-Wan again. “Just a few people you have deep bonds with. Need the connection you do for lust to feel, yes?”

“I don’t know, but that does fit with what I’ve been experiencing.”

“Hmm, as rare as you think this is not.”

“So I didn’t lust for Master Jinn because we didn’t have a close bond?”

“Hmm, yes. Let you in he would not.” He laid a hand over Obi-Wan’s heart. “Seen this before I have. That’s why told you I did, lust may follow, or follow not. Some like you, if a connection in the mind there is, desire may grow. Some feel desire never, have strong friendships only. Certain I could not be, but strongly felt I did that this potential you had.”

“You’ve known others like me? Where the attraction is not physical?”

“ _Yes_. That’s how most of my lovers I get. Look beyond my body they must.” He gently kissed his cheek again. “Release you need,” he reiterated. “Help you I can if want that you do.”

Obi-Wan stilled, obviously feeling this out with the Force. “What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked apprehensively.

Yoda raised his brows in pleased surprise. “Hmm, what indeed? Skittish young virgin you are. Gentle I must be. Go slow we must.” He held up his hand over Obi-Wan’s face, wiggling his fingers. “Enjoying my gentle touch you were.” He shrugged. “Touch you lower I could.”

“Lower?”

Yoda pinched Obi-Wan’s thigh gently with his toes. “Lower.”

“You want to . . . to touch me in private places?”

“Yes.” He rubbed Obi-Wan’s chest through his tunics again. “Love you I do. If give you pleasure I could, joy it would give me.”

“I don’t know if I want to touch you in private places.”

Yoda snorted. “Know this I do. See your fantasies I have. Ready for that you are not.”

“I don’t know if I’ll want that later. It doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“Hmm, sweet young man you are. Still so uncertain you are but worry about me you do. Love you I do. Desire you I do. Comfortable with touching me you are not, okay that is. Hurt me this does not. A bond we share. Giving you pleasure pleases me. When ready you are, when comfortable you are, when want to you do, touch me you can. Until it feels good for both of us, touch me not.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “But what if I don’t get comfortable with it?”

“Hmm, let someone touch you before like this you have?”

“No,” he sighed. “I’ve used my hands to touch myself, but no one else.”

“See me naked before you have?”

"No.” He paused, thinking hard. “I saw you bare-chested once, when I was a teenager. You were wearing robes and your obi had to be re-tied.”

“Hmm, yes, helped me tie it you did. But see the rest of me you have not.” Yoda was fairly casual with nudity, but was respectful of his padawans, neither intruding on their privacy, nor taking pains to avert his gaze. Obi-Wan was similarly respectful, choosing not to lounge around his quarters half-dressed, but not seeming to mind the occasional casual nudity that came with two males sharing a ‘fresher, not bothered if his acting master came in to use the toilet if he was showering or soaking in the tub, even as a teenager, or to continue a conversation while he showered or changed in the locker room.

“Untouched you are and see the goods you never have. Can’t imagine why want to touch me you do not.” He chuckled, glancing toward his own crotch. “Scary down there it could be.”

Obi-Wan giggled, despite himself.

“Tell you I must. _Green_ it is.”

Obi-Wan laughed outright, to his delight.

“That would have been on my short list of potential colors for your private areas, Master.”

“New to this you are. Never done this before you have. If never want to touch me this way, okay that is. But, hmm, understand you must, strong in the Force I am.”

“I know you are, Master.”

“Speaking to me the Force has been since sit down to talk we have.”

“What has it been telling you, Master?”

Yoda smiled down at him. “Telling me it is that if choose my lover to be you do, a little patient I must be, but very rewarding it would be. Felt your desire for me in our bond I have. Gentle it was, slow to grow, but weak it was not. Flash in the pan it was not. Deeply rooted it was. Many ways to express love physically there are. Take time to find the right way for us it might be but clear the Force has been tonight. Worth the patience, worth the wait it would be. Worth it _you_ would be. Worry not about what you are not ready for. Bringing you pleasure my own joy is. When ready you are, other joys we can share.”

Obi-Wan was quiet, listening to the Force himself. “What did you want to do to me?”

Yoda snorted. “So ominous that sounds.” He patted Obi-Wan gently. “At first just touch you I would. Put my hands on you I would. Figure out what you like I would. Then, hmm, loosen your clothes I might, reach in, feel your warm skin against mine I would. Time we would take, let you get used to this we would. When comfortable you are, try to arouse you again I would. Kiss you again I might. Kiss your body I might. If find something you like, keeping going we would. Then, if aroused you become, if erection you get,” he shrugged. “Touch yourself you might. Touch you there I might. Touch you together we might. Hopefully great pleasure you will feel. Hopefully climax you will. Hmm, if happens it does, enjoy your pleasure we both will. Kiss again we might after. Then clean up we will. Calmer you should be then, more balanced.”

“Oh.”

“Thinking what you are?”

“It would be a big step.”

“Yes, a big step it would be, but hurt you I would not.”

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Good.” He lay his head back on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Already it was feeling familiar, comfortable. “Let me help you will?”

Obi-Wan tensed beneath him. “What we were doing before, it felt good. Your touch felt good, and feeling you in my mind, in our bond, felt very good.” He made himself relax his body. “Maybe a little too good. I’m not sure I’m supposed to feel like that as a Jedi.”

“Hmm, wanted to keep going you did?”

“Before the Ficus of Terror? Yes.”

Yoda chuckled, pressing against him. “Wanted to lose control you did?”

“No. I wanted to keep kissing you. There was a warm pulse through the bond every time we kissed and . . . and I wanted to keep feeling it. I could feel it in my mind, but I could also feel it in my body.”

“Hmm, my desire you felt. Helping your own desire to grow it was.” He ran his hand back and forth, rubbing gently. “Wanted to keep going you did, but stopped you did. Why?”

“I wanted to stop because I thought there was someone in the other room and that we might be in danger. At the very least they shouldn’t have been there.”

“Hmm, want to hurt them for disrupting us did you? Angry were you that interrupting your pleasure they were?”

“No. I was concerned. It set off my danger alarm, but they didn’t feel dangerous in the Force. I thought it was someone trying to hide their Force presence.”

“Yes, a Field Jedi you are. Always alert.” He continued to pet the young knight. “No anger, no rage. Used to such pleasures you are not but returning to balance you are. Defying the Code you are not.” He smiled. “Worried about you giving in to Dark passions I am not. Want to try again you do?”

“Is it something you really want to do or are you just being nice?”

Yoda hugged him, flooding the bond with reassurance. “Love you I do, but pressure you I do not want to do. Desire for you I have. Want to touch you intimately I do. Very much. But only if want that you do.” He could feel tension in the knight’s body, but not all of it was fear.

“Can we go slow? Would it be okay if we had to stop?”

“ _Always_ okay to stop it is. _Always_. Hmm, go slow we can. Slow very good can be.” He sat up and looked down at Obi-Wan’s face, stroking through his hair. “Draw out the pleasure.” He leaned down to initiate a kiss. “Very good slow is.” He felt Obi-Wan return the kiss, already at ease with this level of intimacy. “Mmm, see your love in your eyes I can. Feel your trust in our bond I do. Help you I will. Find your balance we will. Be afraid not.”

Obi-Wan gazed up at him, radiating trust. “Yes, Master.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILER WARNING:** human/alien kissing and fondling. Scary houseplants. 
> 
> So, Obi-Wan made his decision. And learned why S-training is such a big thing for Jedi. It's not the control, it's the Force that makes it necessary in their culture. Imagine all those hormonal teenagers, finally getting it on and then their own Force sense freaks them out, even to the point where they might hurt others, themselves or their partners. Because you know, there's a ficus out there. 
> 
> A ficus of _terror_.


	25. Part XXV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoda helps Obi-Wan release his tension. And they talk more. Because they can't not talk. It's what they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from Ed Sheeran's _Thinking Out Loud_.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp-EO5I60KA
> 
> So this is a short chapter, because I was having a very hard time figuring out where to break it up. I think this chapter and the next one would work as a single chapter, but it was just coming out too long.
> 
>  **WARNING:** This chapter is going to go to explicit places you might rather it did not. If you want more details see the end notes. There is also a lot of talking happening, which includes plot details, but if you don't want to read it, it won't prevent you from understanding the larger story.

_So, honey, now_

_Take me into your loving arms._

_Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars._

_Place your head on my beating heart._

_I'm thinking out loud,_

_Maybe we found love right where we are_.

\-- Ed Sheeran, Amy Victoria Wadge, _Thinking Out Loud_

True to his word, the master slowly began to stroke his hesitant lover, keeping his touch gentle and flooding their bond with love. Unsurprisingly, the young man had some difficulty picking up where they had left off, but he was determined not to let anxiety hold him back. Comforting caresses and soft endearments soon became slow kisses and it wasn’t long before Obi-Wan began to send warmth back through the bond; his desire had been banked, not doused entirely. Yoda stretched out on top of him like a cat, then settled down to explore his neck, honing in on the places that had delighted the knight the first time. As he continued to kiss and nuzzle, he slipped his fingers under the first layer of tunics, getting closer to warm flesh. For his part, Obi-Wan was breathing slow and steady, and reached up with one hand to massage Yoda’s scalp again.

“Feeling better you are?” Yoda asked when the tiny bubbles of desire began to slowly drift back across the bond.

“Calmer, less afraid.” He paused, knowing that wasn’t just what Yoda had been asking. “I feel warmth in the bond, I feel love from you and for you. I feel . . . I feel like I want to stay close to you.”

Yoda slid his hand back and forth between Obi-Wan’s tunics. “Get closer we can.” He gave Obi-Wan a gentle love bite where his neck joined his shoulder. “Closer should I get?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I think . . . under my tunics would be okay.”

“Hmm,” Yoda sat up and looked him over carefully. “Still in your robe you are. Okay it is to undress a bit? Take off our robes we could? Quite sure I am, keep each other warm we will.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Under the circumstances, I think I could make that concession.” It was rather absurd how many layers of clothing he was still wearing. He sat up carefully, not wanting to unbalance Yoda.

“Give you a chance before I did not.” He giggled. “Get comfortable you should.” Yoda hung his own robe on one of the low hooks while Obi-Wan stood up, trying not to feel self-conscious. The master walked to the wooden chest where the bed linens were stored, pulling out a small pillow for Obi-Wan’s head.

Obi-Wan looked down at himself. He never realized how much of a barrier his standard garb was to physical intimacy. He had never had trouble using the refresher, and on Dailfo he knew his pants weren’t much of an obstacle or protection, but between his belt, obi, tabards and tunics, his chest was practically under lockdown.

“I should probably take off the belt and tabards,” he conceded. He wasn’t sure about his tunics. It seemed a bit soon for that.

Yoda gave him a look that was both pleased and appreciative. “Yes, help you move freely that will.” He watched as Obi-Wan folded the long swathes of cloth that signified his Jedi identity. “Take off your boots you can also. Relaxed we are trying to get you.”

Obi-Wan hesitated a moment, but he hadn’t done anything to get sweaty since his shower, so his feet were unlikely to offend. He complied, then stood, wiggling his toes to release tension, then looked to Yoda for guidance.

“Hmm, less constrained you look,” he winked at him. “Let me unwrap your body you will? Just a little bit?”

Obi-Wan knelt down on the mat. “A little bit.” He reached out for Yoda’s hand. “What should I do?”

Yoda took his hand, then stepped closer, laying his other palm flat, just above Obi-Wan’s navel. “Keep as we have been doing we will. Keep your mind open do. Keep your heart open do. Keep the bond open do.” He did not mention that it was clear Obi-Wan was not yet physically aroused. They were getting there, slowly and steadily.

Obi-Wan looked down at Yoda’s hand on his stomach, puzzled at how aware he was of the touch, then covered the small hand with his own. Yoda looked up into his face, smiling. Joyful.

“Lay down again you can? Easy for me to reach you that way it is.”

“Okay.” He let go of Yoda, but the master didn’t move away.

“Like being close this way you do?” he asked gently, drumming his fingers against Obi-Wan’s tight abdominals, which twitched in response.

“It’s . . . it’s intimate in a different way. I can see you more easily.” He reached his arms out, encircling Yoda’s body without touching him. “I can touch you easily. You can touch me.”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded, reaching up to cup his chin. “In this position make love we could. Know I do that ready for that you are not, but good it is that comfortable this is for you.” He tapped Obi-Wan’s knee. “Sit in your lap I can, fit together we could.” He could feel a puff of air as Obi-Wan exhaled, trying to keep himself calm.

“This position is . . . consistent with some of the strange thoughts I had. We were just sitting, but . . . it was sexually charged I think.”

“Hmm,” Yoda reached out with the Force. “Preparing your mind the Force was, the bond was. Just fantasies they were not.” He let his hand trail down the center of Obi-Wan’s neck and down across his collarbone and sternum until it rested next to his other hand. “A good sign that is. Something to try it is when ready you are.” He drummed his fingers on both hands. “Good for just kissing it is too, but too tense you are. Comfortable enough you are not.” He shoved Obi-Wan gently. “Lay down you should. Relax if you can, take care of you I will.”

“Okay.” Obi-Wan moved to lay down with his head on the pillow, grateful for the neck support.

“Understand you do that say no you can? Any time? Any reason?”

Obi-Wan leaned up on an elbow and reached out a hand. “I know. I’m not following you blindly. I’m just trusting that unlike me, you know what you’re doing.”

“Heh,” Yoda took his hand and let himself be pulled in close as Obi-Wan lay down. “Yes, take care of you I know how to do.” He let Obi-Wan draw him all the way in until they were face to face, laughing as he fell into a kiss. “Take care of you I will.” He stroked Obi-Wan’s face lovingly before he stepped back, taking a moment to look down his lover’s body. Obi-Wan was still breathing slowly, but the breaths were deeper, taking in more air, his heart beating just slightly faster. With care, Yoda slipped his hand under the collar of Obi-Wan’s outermost tunic and followed it down, across his chest, past his ribs and down near his hip. Without the belt and sashes, it was much easier to loosen the fastenings and soon the outer tunic was opened, the sides flaring out like wings. Yoda climbed up onto his chest, feeling his lover’s warmth much more easily through just his undertunic.

“Mmm,” he hummed contentedly. “Still okay this is?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan stroked his fingers over Yoda’s arm, able to feel the contours of his flesh through his tunic more easily. “I didn’t realize you were so muscular. No wonder I always lose when we spar.” He could clearly feel the master’s stomach tense and tremble against his own as he chuckled in response.

“Hee, hee. Beefcake I am not, but muscles I still have. Still train I do. Stiffer I am, less stamina I have, but weak I am not.”

“Oh, I _know_ , Master. I’d never describe you as weak, even if you didn’t use the Force.”

“Also, weak you are not.” He slid his foot up and down over Obi-Wan’s side and hip. “Very developed you are. Very beautiful you are. Very strong you are.” He stroked his face, looking him in the eye. “Tell you this I have not, but known I have a long time.” He kissed him softly. “Appropriate it would not have been.”

Obi-Wan blushed. “I think I’m average, maybe a little strange, looks-wise.”

“Why think yourself strange you do?” Yoda began to kiss along the neckline of Obi-Wan’s tunic.

Obi-Wan shrugged, but there was a tremble in it. Yoda continued his caresses, his foot sliding a bit lower on each stroke.

“My coloring is strange. My hair is a little too red, or worse, orange if it gets too much sun. My skin is too pale, no one can agree on my eye color. I’m a little short.”

“No,” Yoda pinched his side gently with his toes. “A little short _I_ am. Short _you_ are not.”

Obi-Wan had started in surprise at the pinch but didn’t seem displeased by it. “I concede, you are shorter.”

“Hmm, judge yourself by your size you should not. Young, healthy, beautiful you are, but a secret to tell you I have.”

“A secret?”

“Yes. Love you I would, even if old, sick, and ugly you were. See you in the Force I can. So much Light you have. Telling you that beautiful you are I am because hear that enough you have not. Understand it you do not. Believe it you do not, but hmm, look at you I do and see in you I can your training, your skill, your elegance, your grace. Admire your body I have, new that is not. Leer at you I would not, disrespectful that is, but,” he slipped his finger into the neckline of his inner tunic. “Very beautiful you are. So respectful, so modest you are. Be afraid to bare yourself you should not be.” He tugged the neckline a bit lower, exposing a triangle of chest hair, then nuzzling at it. “When ready you are, worry not.”

“I suppose you _have_ seen me naked already.” Obi-Wan stroked a finger down Yoda’s ear, relishing when he purred in response. “I guess I hoped I wasn’t too off-putting, but I know you have had human padawans before, so I assumed you could handle it.”

“Yes, handle it I could. Many nude humans I have seen. A communal bath the monks had. Nudity a source of shame was not. Always comfortable you had seemed.”

“I hope I wasn’t too forward.”

“Fine for a padawan you were. Lover you are now. More forward you can be.” Very, very slowly he began to open Obi-Wan’s undertunic. “Evaluate your body I have, many times. Admire it instead prefer I would to now.”

“I want to be beautiful for you.” He sounded uncertain, as if that might not be acceptable for a Jedi.

“Hmm, good that is. Want to be beautiful for you I do too, but a taller order that might be.”

“You _are_ beautiful,” Obi-Wan insisted. “You have beautiful eyes, and you move your hands with such grace, and sometimes your face is unreadable, as if it were carved from Celadon Marble, and other times it’s so expressive. And you move with elegance when you do katas, or when I watch you spar with other Jedi.”

Yoda rubbed his cheek against Obi-Wan’s chest, enjoying his lover’s scent up close. “In love you are, if think that you do. That beautiful when naked I am not, but hmm, terrible I am not either. Old I am, wrinkles I have. Tight I no longer am.”

“I’ve been using the adult locker rooms for _years_ , Master. I haven’t seen _you_ naked, but there are plenty of older masters and they are not bashful. And you’ve warned me about the green part.”

Yoda finished unfastening the undertunic. Now his own clothing was the only barrier between them. He knew the young man was not ready for full skin to skin intimacy yet, but he hadn’t tried to pull away. Yoda reached out into the Force, getting a sense of whether this was still the right path. The Force flowed through him, assuring him they were following the Light, and this path was brighter than any he had seen for Obi-Wan in a very long time. He opened his mind and for a moment he could see them in the Force, laying just like this, both gloriously naked, rutting against each other, the Force electric between them. He pulled away, shaking his head to clear it before his body started to react.

“Are you okay?” Obi-Wan had noticed his distraction.

“Yes, feeling the Force I was.” He went back to nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s bare chest. “Worry not. Assure me the Force has, a stud you will be.”

Obi-Wan snorted in disbelief. “You don’t have to tell me, I was just concerned.”

“Lie to you I did not.” He scooted up and kissed him deeply. “Show me your passion the Force did. Your choice this is always, but worry not. Passion you have. Passion for _me_ you can have. Telling me that worth the wait you are the Force has been.” He wriggled against Obi-Wan. “Worry about it you should not.” With one more kiss he sat up and scooted back down to look at Obi-Wan’s newly bared chest. “Very nice,” he spread the tunics further, exposing Obi-Wan’s nipples. “Yes, well-muscled you are.” He began to trace the shapes and contours with the tips of his claws, feeling Obi-Wan’s breath hitch beneath his legs whenever he reached a sensitive spot.

“Still good this is?” Yoda was fairly sure it was, the tiny bubbles were coming in a steady stream now, but keeping communications open helped Obi-Wan stay comfortable.

“Y-yes.” His voice was unsteady as Yoda stroked a sensitive place. “Its—” he gasped as Yoda began stroking his sides. “Oh, its, it’s more intense than I’m used to. It doesn’t feel like this when I touch myself there.”

“Hmm, stroke your chest during private meditations you do?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan looked away, blushing. “I sometimes touch myself there during the focusing stage.”

“Hmm, do that I do too. Easy to reach it is, good it feels, calming it can be, exciting it can be.”

“I think we’ve moved past calming.” Obi-Wan was starting to sound a little breathless. “I’m not complaining.”

“Hmm, yes. Complaining you are not.” Yoda moved to lay down again, his head level with Obi-Wan’s chest. He began to kiss and nuzzle again, his claws gently stroking down Obi-Wan’s ribs.

Obi-Wan took deep, trembling breaths, his control getting harder to maintain.

“Are you s-sure I’m not boring you?” A wave of uncertainty ran through him. He wasn’t uncomfortable, but his experience living with Qui-Gon Jinn indicated most of his master’s sexual encounters would have resulted in loud moaning, if not rhythmic pounding by now. He had never been a participant of course, but it always seemed so loud, intrusive, aggressive, harsh. Anything but enticing. He knew this wasn’t intercourse, this was something gentler, something that _was_ enticing, that didn’t feel rough, rushed, impatient. When he was younger, he had tried to imagine what physical intimacy would be like, more an intellectual curiosity than one driven by hormones. He knew it was an aspect of Jedi training he would be expected to learn. Trying to imagine physical intimacy with his master was harder; even as a junior padawan he had half-expected his master to send him to someone else for that. Qui-Gon never had any problems touching him to correct his form, there was no awkwardness there, but it was professional, and there was no warmth either. A physical correction was a reminder he was doing something wrong. He had always done his best not to do anything wrong.

Outside the salle, Qui-Gon’s touch was even more rare. His master had dressed his wounds sometimes, which also felt like a correction, even if he had reciprocated. He got the occasional shoulder pat if he was feeling down and Qui-Gon didn’t think he was being petulant or was trying to cajole him into a better mood. In general, he didn’t touch Qui-Gon and his master hadn’t touched him. He had learned to get himself off, it kept him more in control of his bodily reactions if he didn’t ignore his body, and he wasn’t going to _ever_ bother his master with _that_. But he had never been able to imagine doing the things he had seen half-shadowed in holofilms or making sounds like he had heard from behind his master’s bedroom door. His master had many lovers besides Master Tahl, he knew the deeper groans and guttural sounds two men made while having sex. His master had certainly never hid how much he enjoyed sex, before, during or after, but every time he tried to figure it out, to figure out how it would have worked, he had come up blank. The one time he had finally asked, more concerned with how S-training was supposed to fit around his other academic requirements than any interest in the material, the curt rejection had ended any speculation. If S-training and sex had been tied to Living Force skills, he would no doubt be an even greater disappointment to his master than he had usually been, and presumably to any other Jedi lover. He had wondered if his lack of attunement to the Living Force was why he had so little interest in sex, if desire didn’t come from within, but from something outside himself that would always be beyond his grasp. He wondered if he was simply immature, but when he still felt nothing at age twenty and more, he just assumed there was something missing in him, or that if were to have any chance at knighthood, there just wasn’t enough of him to meet his goals and have desires or relationships. His master had seemed to agree with both, that he was far too immature and incompetent to manage intimacy, even if he had been trained and someone had been remotely interested.

All of his friends had been trained on time, when they reached the age of majority or soon after. If he had so failed the most basic requirements for training, it wasn’t a mystery why others weren’t interested in him sexually, particularly within the Order, despite Bant’s occasional teasing to the contrary.

Bant had certainly never suggested Master Yoda as potential boyfriend material.

“Delighting in you I am. Boring me you are not.” He stroked his claws down Obi-Wan’s side, pleased when the young man gasped, his hips shifting. Desire flushed through the bond. “Desire you are feeling too?”

“I . . . I think so? I feel . . . I want you to keep touching me.”

Yoda ran his claws over Obi-Wan’s ribs again, grinning as the young man’s breath caught. “Yes, feel good that does. Enjoy my touch you do.” He kissed Obi-Wan’s chest again, then continued exploring him lightly with his claws. Obi-Wan sighed, his breathing gradually growing less steady, his body moving more as the touches began to kindle arousal again. Yoda kept up the gentle stroking, watching as Obi-Wan’s eyes dilated, his pale skin began to flush, and his breath quickened. His fears had been soothed, his anxiety only bubbled up rarely and was easily calmed, and as he released his fears, he opened his mind, opened the bond to Yoda and to the Force. He was lighting up, his Force presence unfurling, showing his inner self. Beautiful, luminous, the Force so strong in him.

Yoda’s claw gently passed over a nipple and Obi-Wan grunted, wincing.

“Hmm, like that you did not.” Yoda kept himself calm, relieved when Obi-Wan’s mental presence seemed to startle more than retreat.

“No,” Obi-Wan agreed. “That was . . . unpleasant.”

“Sorry I am.” Yoda kissed his sternum. “Hurt you I did?”

“No, it didn’t hurt. It was just . . .” he squirmed, trying to describe it. “Jarring. Not pleasant. Overly intense.”

“Having your nipples touched you do not like.” He resumed stroking along Obi-Wan’s ribs, gratified when the young man relaxed again as he continued to caress him. “Okay that is.”

“I take it other men like that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Some do, some not.” He kissed him again, then slid off his chest to lie next to him, one leg thrown over Obi-Wan’s thigh. “But more important something is. Honest you were. Told me you did when like something you did not. Like everything you will not. Okay that is.” He shrugged. “Other lovers like that have, but all not. Nipples I have not, so know how it feels I do not.”

“I remember that,” Obi-Wan frowned at the old memory. “You seemed to have pectoral muscles, but not nipples.”

“The equivalent structure elsewhere is,” Yoda chuckled. “Difficulty Master Yaddle finding formal wear has.”

“Do you, um, like to have your pectoral muscles stroked?”

“Enjoy that I do. Less sensitive than human nipples, but feels good it does.” Slowly, he worked his hand lower, stroking over tight abdominals, his hand sliding down to Obi-Wan’s waistband, then up again. The young man sighed at the light touch.

“Hmm, but like _that_ you do.”

“Yes.”

Yoda slid his hand lower, gliding over Obi-Wan’s lower belly through his pants.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan gasped in surprise. “That’s . . .”

“Mmm, like that more you do.” He teased at the waistband, slipping a finger just inside, but did not go further, keeping lower explorations over the young knight’s clothes.

“I . . .” he was moving in response, almost against his will. “It’s never felt that way.”

“Mmm, poor young man you are. Loved like this before you have not been.” He had definitely found a good erogenous zone and kept his attentions focused on it. “Feel good it does?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan was startled at his own voice, strained and breathless.

“Mmm, kiss you there let me you would? Touch your skin, allow that you would?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, struggling to steady his breathing.

“Getting aroused you are. Feel that I can.” He stroked a little harder, pushing his nails into the cloth a little more firmly. “Let me light your passion you will?”

Obi-Wan trembled, reaching for the Force for guidance with more difficulty than before. “Ju-just your h-hand. On my stomach.”

“Just that, yes,” Yoda purred, pleased by his lover’s willingness. “Reach inside I will, stroke your belly I will.” He slipped his hand into Obi-Wan’s pants and underwear, slowly inching his way down the same route, but under the cloth, his claws gentle on bare skin, the touch light. Tantalizing.

“Ahh!” Obi-Wan’s thighs began to tremble as he fought for control. “Master,” he whispered. “That feels good.”

“Yes, see that I can. Very sensitive your belly is. Touch yourself here you do?”

“Sometimes,” Obi-Wan grimaced. His tone of voice was starting to sound awkward. Embarrassing. “It feels different when you do it.”

“Yes, like that sex is. Touching yourself feel good can, but the touch of another very different can be.”

A small moan escaped from Obi-Wan’s lips before he realized it was happening and he clapped a hand over his mouth. Was this the type of touch that made Qui-Gon and his lovers moan behind closed doors? They had always seemed more active, had been louder, but the strange sounds coming from him were not wholly unfamiliar.

“Allowed to make noise you are,” Yoda reassured him. “Share a wall with the locked parlor this room does. Hear you the neighbors will not.”

Obi-Wan’s breaths were heaving as Yoda shifted to rub him with his fingertips instead. “I don’t want to be d-disrespectful.”

“Hmm, disrespected you felt when loud your master would be?”

“Uncomfortable,” Obi-Wan gasped again. “Irrelevant. As if I didn’t matter, even to give me a choice about whether to stay or go somewhere else.”

“Hmm, no one hear you will. Just us two here are. Make noise you can. Quiet you can be. Loud you can be. Tell me how you feel you should.” He rubbed harder and Obi-Wan gasped again. “Teaches me how to love you your voice does.”

“Ah!” Obi-Wan’s hips moved involuntarily. “Master!” He struggled to keep his voice quiet.

“Feeling good that is?” There was a smile in Yoda’s voice. Obi-Wan’s movements were pressing back against his hand, his breaths coming rapidly, rushing through his nose as he covered his mouth again, trying to keep the small moans in. Yoda kept rubbing, determined. It was only a matter of time now.

Ever the Jedi, Obi-Wan forced himself to stop writhing against his lover’s touch, pushing down the tension, his muscles tight, locked down. Yoda never wavered, never stopped rubbing.

Obi-Wan pulled his hand away from his mouth, his breathing harsh, tightly regulated.

“Master?” he could not normalize his voice.

“Yes, Beautiful?”

“Master,” he closed his eyes tightly, unable to stay completely still. “I’m losing control.”

Yoda looked up at him in surprise. Obi-Wan was tense, but the feel of him in the Force and through the bond indicated he was nowhere near orgasm. In fact, he still hadn’t managed to get an erection, despite obviously enjoying their activities. He glanced at Obi-Wan’s groin, then back up to the tense expression on his face.

 _Oh_.

“Yes, Obi-Wan. Let go of control you should. Let go, let yourself feel. Feels good my touch does?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan grit out between clenched teeth.

“Feel good your body does?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan was getting desperate.

“Hard your body wants to get?”

“Yes.” He could barely speak as he struggled to control himself. To be a Jedi. To be respectful.

“Let go, Beautiful. Passion you have. Let it out.”

Obi-Wan shuddered against him as he lost his grip on his control. Yoda gentled his stroking and sat up to watch as Obi-Wan’s penis began to rise in his pants. He didn’t move to touch it, just kept stroking Obi-Wan’s belly, sending reassurance through the bond.

“There you are,” Yoda smiled back at him. Obi-Wan looked slightly fearful, anxious again, not used to being seen in this state despite that being their mutual goal. “Had to stroke you the right way I did, but hmm, find your passion we did.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan trembled, not quite sure why he felt the need to apologize, but his anxiety was rising. “I respect you, Master.”

“Know this I do.” Yoda stroked his chest gently, soothingly, letting him get used to the situation. “No shame you need. Let go of control sometimes you must. Good for you this is.”

“I _know_ that. I just don’t _feel_ that. I don’t know why my emotions are so messy.”

Yoda leaned over and kissed his cheek. Obi-wan inhaled sharply, unable to keep still, hypersensitive to touch in a way he had never been before.

“All over the place this evening your emotions have been. Up, down, elation, despair, fear, calm, anxiety, contentedness. All over. Many things well up will. Deal with them we will. Ignore your feelings you should not. Feel them, accept them, let them go.” He began to stroke Obi-Wan’s bare chest as the young man tried to regulate his breathing. “Feel shame you do?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan could not look at him, staring at the ceiling instead. “I lost control.”

“Let go you did. Let yourself feel you did. Offend me you have not. Used the Force against me you have not. Coerce me you have not. Allowed yourself to feel you have. No Darkness in this there is.”

“I’m not controlling my emotions,” he whispered back.

“Still learning you are. Many feelings happen when your first time you have. Control all emotions a Jedi cannot. Build the self, build the frame of mind, learn to focus you can, learn to control your actions you can, learn to make good choices you must, but hmm, let go of control you can if learn a healthy way to do so you have. Let go you have. Afraid of yourself you do not have to.”

Obi-Wan shifted beneath his hands, trying not to move his hips despite his body’s urges. “Yes, M-master.” He took a deep breath. “I know you s-said not to feel ashamed, b-but . . .”

Yoda caught a mental image flashing across the bond, a view of himself as a sage, a leader. Obi-Wan had lost neither his love nor his desire, but when faced with reality his fear of disrespecting his lover had bubbled back up. Obi-Wan had barely been able to have true carnal fantasies, to imagine participating in an actual sex act, even with the bond port, and had grown up in a sexually repressive environment. Such emotional difficulties were not unexpected.

Yoda leaned over and kissed Obi-Wan softly on the lips. “Nothing shameful you have done.” He stood up and stepped closer to Obi-Wan’s groin, gazing at his tented pants.

“A gift for me this is?”

“What?”

He patted Obi-Wan’s thigh gently, trying to express both calm and acceptance. “Thinking of me when made this you did?” He could feel Obi-Wan struggle to adjust to this paradigm shift.

“Y-yes?”

“Feel my hands on your body you did?”

“Yes.”

“Feel my love for you in our bond you did?”

“Yes.” He was a bit more confident now.

“Think of me you did when made this you did?” He stroked his hand up and down Obi-Wan’s thigh as the young man gasped beneath him.

“Yes!”

“Mmm,” Yoda smiled, waiting until he had caught Obi-Wan’s eye. “So, a gift for me this is?” He raised his brows, questioningly.

Obi-Wan looked a bit uncertain. “Yes,” he replied, meekly.

“Very nice it is.” Yoda looked over Obi-Wan’s clothed erection, assessing it. “Very nice.” He patted Obi-Wan’s thigh again. “Unwrap it I may?”

“What?” Obi-Wan seemed to need clarification more than reassurance.

Yoda gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for the gift I do. Unwrap it I may?” He patted at Obi-Wan’s waistband. “Take it out of the wrappings I may?”

Obi-Wan was silent, releasing his shame at the idea, reaching to the Force for guidance.

“Yes.”

“Hmm, thank you. Be afraid not. Hurt you I will not.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan affirmed.

“Take care of you I will.” Yoda stroked Obi-Wan’s belly through his pants before moving to unfasten them, then tugged on his underwear, baring his lover to his gaze, inspecting the young man’s erect penis up close.

“Hmm, very fine my gift is. Very clean. Very firm.” He leaned closer, inhaling. “Smells virile it does.” He turned his head to gaze at Obi-Wan, who was staring at him, wide-eyed. “Beautiful here you are too.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Yoda gazed at Obi-Wan’s erection fondly. “Yes, very lovely my gift is. Honored by your passion I am.” He looked back at Obi-Wan. “Touch my gift I may?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, gathering his courage. “Yes.”

“Gentle with you I will be.” Slowly, he leaned down to kiss Obi-Wan’s sensitive belly, which set the young man trembling, before turning his attention to Obi-Wan’s penis.

“Very nice, yes.” Yoda considered how best to proceed, stroking Obi-Wan’s belly with his claws before skating over to his hipbone, admiring his pale skin and sculpted muscles. “So beautiful you are, such passion you have.” He slipped his hand into Obi-Wan’s underwear, gently stroking his scrotum with his palm. Obi-Wan’s breath hitched and he covered his mouth, whimpering at the intense sensations. Yoda continued to stroke him, feeling the texture of his skin, the weight of his testicles, the thick hair growing there. Obi-Wan shifted and shivered in response, alternately pressing against and withdrawing from the touch as his penis began to moisten at the tip.  
  
“Good this feels?”

“Mm-hmm,” Obi-Wan affirmed, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good it feels to me too.” Yoda pulled his hand free, resting it on Obi-Wan’s hip as he let the young man resettle.

“Touch your penis I will now,” he warned. Obi-Wan nodded, eyes closed, body tense.

Carefully, Yoda reached out and lay his hand on Obi-Wan’s erection, not rubbing, just touching. Obi-Wan exhaled loudly through his nose, pressing against the touch until he made himself stop, laying still.

“Hmm, hard for me you are, Obi-Wan. A very fine gift this is. Warm in my hand you feel.” He reached out with his other hand, gently manipulating the erect organ, examining it from all sides by eye and feel. “Yes, very hard, long and thick. Strength in you here there is, much pleasure to be had here there is.” Slowly, he began to move his hands, rubbing over the penis. Obi-Wan gasped and writhed beneath him. “Mmm, like that you do?”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan yelped, covering his mouth again, whimpering at the firm strokes.

“Yes, feel you getting harder I can.” He lay one hand on Obi-Wan’s belly, which had prickled into gooseflesh. “Feel your heartbeat I can. Pulsing in the Force you are. Feel that you can?”

Obi-Wan nodded, eyes closed, not trusting his voice.

“Bright you are. See your Light I can. Feel your passion growing I can.” He began to rub up and down, his touch gentle but firm.

Obi-Wan moaned behind his hand, the gentle touch far more intense than anything he had ever done to himself, his iron control and anxiety the only reasons he hadn’t already climaxed. Yoda let a fingertip graze the tip, capturing a drop of fluid and Obi-Wan started, a harsh groan echoing in his head.

“Yes, a very fine gift this is. Fit in my hands so well it does.” He lay Obi-Wan’s penis down against his belly, stroking his hand back and forth. Obi-Wan’s hips began to move in response. “Hmm, responsive you are, feel the rhythm, feel the pulse you can. Follow the dance you can. Such a good lover you will be, Beautiful.”

Obi-Wan moaned behind his hand, excited by the praise almost as much as the fondling.

“Let me lie on top would you? Let me feel you beneath me would you? Let me rub against your body would you?” He stroked a thumb over the head of Obi-Wan’s penis, pleased when his whole body shook. “Let me spill my passions over your flesh would you?”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan’s voice tore from his body, sounding half-strangled. His chest glistened with sweat, his scent growing stronger, his body trembling, moving, shifting before he got the rhythm back, overwhelmed at the idea of Yoda joining him in feeling this way, overcome at the thought that he could help his beloved feel such deep pleasures. “Ah!”

“Yes, a very good lover you will be. So strong, so patient, so responsive. Enjoy my touch you do. Many ways to love there are. Teach you I will if want that you do.”

Obi-Wan arched his back, and suddenly the bubbles came in a rush down the bond, the sounds of his passions muffled. He had never felt anything like this before, his body taut with a strange tension, his mind full of love, passion, acceptance, heat.

Yoda gazed at him, trying to decide the best way to bring his lover to climax. He didn’t want it to come too fast, but he didn’t want to drag it out to painful lengths either. Obi-Wan was doing very well, holding his anxiety at bay and embracing the experience, but going too long could backfire. 

Experimentally, he bent a finger and ran his knuckle along the underside of Obi-Wan’s penis from root to tip.

Obi-Wan’s body almost convulsed at the intense sensation. He half sat up, staring at the master, wide-eyed and panting.

He had felt _that_ touch before.

Yoda looked back at him, brows raised in surprise. “Hmm, like that you did?” His life force had flared brightly at the touch, echoing in the Force. He was surprised Obi-Wan hadn’t climaxed, given his strong reaction. Obi-Wan lay back down, trembling, shaken by the memory more than the touch.

“Yes,” he grated out. “Yes.”

“Hmm,” Yoda stroked his belly again, calming him down, looking around the room intently. “Massage oil I left for you when lived here you did. Any left there is?”

Obi-Wan took a few deep breaths before he trusted his voice to respond. “I left it in the drawer,” he pointed, hand shaking, to the small cabinet that served as a bedside table. “I only twisted my ankle once or twice, so there should be plenty left.”

“Tch,” Yoda scolded as he got up to rummage through the drawer. “Left it for your _ankle_ I did not,” he teased. “Ha!” With a cheerful grin he held the bottle aloft. “Plenty there is, even for the well-hung stud you are.”

Obi-Wan snorted, despite himself.

“Oh, think you do that flattering you I am?” Yoda asked, his expression mischievous as he settled back down and opened the bottle then covered his hands, waiting for the oil to warm.

“I’m a realist.” The break had let Obi-Wan gain more control over himself, though his erection hadn’t flagged. “And I’ve grown up in locker rooms. I’m average.”

“Beautiful you are,” Yoda insisted. “Firm. Satisfying to hold, to touch.” He reached out and ran a slickened finger along the hot flesh.

“Oh!” Obi-Wan nearly came off the mat.

“Heh, like that you _did_.” Yoda held him with his oil-slick hands, stroking him sensually while Obi-Wan panted, his palms flat against the mat, riding the waves of intense pleasure.

“Ah! Ah!”

Yoda smiled, delighted by the sounds. “Feel my love you can?”

Obi-Wan’s breath was beginning to stutter as he bit his lip, his orgasm approaching, no longer at the distant horizon, but coming closer, riding in on hoofbeats in time with his pounding heart.

“Yes!” he gasped.

“Feel my love in my touch you can?”

“Yes!”

“Getting close you are.” He was rubbing the head of Obi-Wan’s penis on each stroke, natural fluids mixing with the oil, the hot flesh sliding across his palms, smooth and slippery.

“Ahhh!” Obi-Wan covered his mouth over the shuddering cry, his hips starting to lose the rhythm. The Force began to rise in him, a brilliant white light welling up from the center of his being, breaking free to flow into the room and everything brightened, illuminated. He lifted his head, looking at Yoda, trying to keep fear at bay.

“Moving in you the Force is,” Yoda reassured him, and he too was beginning to glow, tiny pinpricks of light, like Obi-Wan had seen in his mind through the wall, but so many, and as the passion spiraled higher and the hoofbeats drew near they multiplied, grew exponentially, shone brighter until the knight couldn’t see Yoda’s face anymore, just all the stars in the sky crowding together in the master’s form.

_Luminous._

Yoda’s stroking had never wavered, even as Obi-Wan reached the edge. “Let go of control you can, Beloved. Let you fall I will not.”

Obi-Wan let go and the light grew until it was all he could see, the pleasure was all he could feel as he climaxed.

Yoda felt Obi-Wan’s orgasm rush down the bond and spill into the Force, an intense wave of energy his mortal body could not contain, the amplitude much higher than expected. The energy left his body, heat and Light warming the air of the room and a distinct telekinetic pulse channeled into the floor through the foam mat. The small cabinet slid back several inches across the floor, the pens inside jostling, followed by the clink of his crockery shaking in the kitchen cabinets. Yoda braced himself, but no sounds of dishes smashing on the floor followed.

He hoped the neighbors were asleep.

When the brightness faded, Obi-Wan was laying on his back, blinking at the ceiling, his own semen littering his chest and belly, still breathing hard, one hand still over his mouth.

“Breathe through your mouth you should. Help you catch your breath it will.”

Obi-Wan’s hand dropped, nerveless as he gasped like a swimmer who had narrowly escaped drowning. In the living room, Koli delighted in the spent energies still vibrating in the air, singing his little green heart out in the Living Force. Gupo, a flowering Zonf vine, grumbled about the pulse, feeling unstable in his pot from the vibrations.

Yoda began to make long, soothing strokes down Obi-Wan’s flank, feeling the young man going boneless. “Still with me you are?”

“Master,” Obi-Wan sounded awed. “You’re made of stars.”

“Yes, my Love,” Yoda continued to stroke him. “Made of stars you are too.”

“I saw the stars inside you.”

Yoda bit back a laugh, amused that Obi-Wan was more stunned by his glimpse of the Living Force than his orgasm. “Saw your Light I did too. Another beautiful gift it was.”

Obi-Wan had settled enough to look him in the eye as the Living Force vision had faded. “Are you alright, Master?”

Yoda chuckled outright. “Fine I am. Mean to overwhelm you that much I did not.” He finished his stroke, then crept closer to Obi-Wan’s head so the young man didn’t have to strain to see him. “Alright you are?”

“I think so. I feel strange. Limp. Wrung out. Relaxed. Exhausted. Safe.”

“Feel good your orgasm did?” Yoda asked.

A giggle escaped before Obi-Wan could stop it. He cleared his throat to steady his voice. “Yes, Master.” His expression grew more serious. “Um, did I make the floor shake or was that just . . .”

“Hee, hee,” Yoda cracked up. “Oh, move the earth did?” he cackled. “Yes, made the floor shake you did. Most virgins not so well-attuned to the Force are when their first shared climax they have. Sounds like nothing broken was, but check the dishes in the morning I will.” He kissed Obi-Wan on the forehead. “A long time it’s been since rattled the dishes my lovers have.”

“I was trying to be quiet. Respectful.”

“Very respectful you _are_ , Beloved. Honor me with your trust you do. Know I do that hard for you this was.”

“I’m sorry I took so long.” His expression was contrite, but his anxiety wasn’t able to fully manifest so soon after the rush of endorphins. “Master Jinn always got loud faster.”

“Know this I _do_. Poor Master Tahl, take his time he does not.” He stroked a damp lock of hair off Obi-Wan’s forehead. “Hard it was for you to let go of your control, but when ready you were, shine so brightly you did. Deep pleasures we shared. Worth the time, worth the effort it was.”

“May I kiss you?” Obi-Wan sounded uncertain, but no longer afraid.

“Yes, always that you may have.” He leaned down and kissed him, gratified when Obi-Wan kissed back enthusiastically. As he pulled away, he stroked his hand over Obi-Wan’s temple, the bond pulsing between them. Obi-Wan sighed at the mental caress.

“Relax you should. Quiet your mind. Feel the Force.” Yoda patted him reassuringly, then stood up. “Stay there you will. Feel your mind returning to balance I can. Be right back I will.”

“Shouldn’t I clean myself up?”

“No. Feel the Force. Your balance returning is. Stay there you will.” He stepped into the common room, leaving his lover mildly concerned.

Obi-Wan looked down at himself, grimacing at the mess. He usually tried to be neater when he took care of himself, but he supposed it was better to soil himself than defile Yoda’s home.

He really hoped he hadn’t upset the neighbors. He had never noticed anything similar to the inadvertent telekinesis before, either while a padawan nor while living in the Knight’s Tower.

“You just had to be strange Kenobi, didn’t you?” he muttered to himself. He could hear Yoda doing something in the refresher, probably washing his hands. The master had told him to feel the Force, so he laid back down and tried to do as he was asked. He wasn’t able to focus yet, his mind wasn’t quite responding as quickly as it usually did, but he did feel much calmer, and the Force seemed to have lost the strange urgency it had had for months, as if he had finally done something he was supposed to do and he was where he was supposed to be. He wondered how much of this was really due to the Force and how much was just due to the rather intense orgasm. With his focus still out of reach he took stock of his body. His head didn’t hurt (though he expected some pain in the morning), and a lot of the tension he had been carrying in his back and shoulders had finally loosened, leaving a pleasant ache behind. Sweat was starting to dry on his body, and his breathing and heartrate had slowed, the anxiety he had been carrying for so long had been washed away by what seemed like a tsunami of emotion and sensation on a completely different scale. He felt like his body and mind had been reset.

Master Yoda came back into the room and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, strangely relieved the master had returned. Yoda had brought in a bowl of steaming water and had a washcloth and small towel draped over his arm.  
  
“Feel the Force you did?”

“Sort of,” Obi-Wan looked a bit contrite. “I could feel it, but I had trouble focusing on it.”

“Surprise me this does not.” Yoda put down the bowl next to Obi-Wan’s hip, then dipped the washcloth into the water. The smell of herbs and soap drifted in the air. “Feeling more in balance you are?”

“I think we overshot a little, but the anxiety isn’t dragging on me like it was.”

“Good to hear that is.” Yoda wrung out the wet end of the washcloth. “Tell me if too hot this is,” he instructed before he began wiping Obi-Wan down.

“Master?”

Yoda pulled away. “Too hot?”

“No,” Obi-Wan sounded very concerned. “What are you doing?”

Yoda patted his chest. “Still taking care of you I am.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one cleaning up my, um, mess?”

“ _Our_ mess,” Yoda corrected. “Made it together with my gift we did.” He started at Obi-Wan’s shoulders and neck, wiping away the sweat.

“I don’t want to be a bother, Master.” Obi-Wan’s voice was very quiet. “You’ve done so much for me already.”

Yoda sighed dramatically. “Yes, so many beautiful, virile, young men, come to my quarters they do. Share their bodies they do, share their passions they do.” He used a finger to scoop up the still wet semen. “Such a terrible burden this is.” He stuck his finger in his mouth, winking at Obi-Wan’s stunned face. “Just _terrible_.”

“Oh.”

Yoda patted the freshly clean skin, chuckling at the expression on Obi-Wan’s face. “Enjoy taking care of you I do, whether my lover you are or not. Old I am. Small I am. The Grandmaster I am. All the time, take care of me people do. All the time, take care of me _you_ do. Reciprocate often I cannot.” He could feel Obi-Wan getting less nervous. “If to climax brought me you had, wash me you would?” He continued the gentle bath. “Let me rest in the afterglow you would? Clean and new make me you would?”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan’s voice was barely over a whisper.

“Different way to love this also is.” He dipped the washcloth in the basin again, then began cleaning away the evidence of Obi-Wan’s release. “Still love me you do?”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan sighed. “While I’ve gotten closer to balance, I must admit my deeper feelings for you remain unchanged.”

“Heh,” Yoda began drying the clean skin before the young man could get cold, then resumed washing. “Convenient that is. Love you very much I still do too.”

“I’m concerned about attachment.”

Yoda pinched him gently over the ribs. “Flooded your brain with hormones and endorphins we did. If nothing you felt, worried I would be. Tell me, if ordered you on a mission right now I did, refuse it you would? Demand to stay here you would?”

Obi-Wan looked down at his half-cleaned torso. “Right now? I’d probably request time to shower first.”

Yoda snorted. “Yes, a proper Jedi you are. But go on the mission you would?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t betray my vows, Master.” He frowned, “I’d have to meditate on the way to be effective though.”

Yoda chuckled as he began washing Obi-Wan’s lower belly. “Hmm, leave me for your work after a shower you would. Lose my touch I must have.” He patted Obi-Wan just above his navel. “Wash your penis now I will. Gentle I will be.” Carefully, Yoda picked up Obi-Wan’s spent member, cleaning it very thoroughly without arousing passion. All too soon he had finished his ministrations and Obi-Wan was clean, dry, and tucked back into his pants. Yoda set the bowl aside, dried his hands, then turned his attention back to his lover.

“Thank you I do.” He ran his hand over Obi-Wan’s dry chest. “Comfortable you are?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan frowned. “Thank you. For taking care of me. Several ways.” He looked uncertain. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do right now.”

“Hmm, leave you alone I could. Or take a nap together we could.” Yoda stretched, yawning. “Prefer to nap with you I do but understand I will if enough contact for one day you have had.”

Obi-Wan was quiet. “I don’t want to be alone right now,” he said at last.

“Hmm, then stay I will.” Yoda came closer, kissed Obi-Wan gently on the lips, then lay down next to him, resting his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, snuggling up to his side. Obi-Wan’s hand came up to rest against his neck.

“A big day you had. Rest now.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan shifted, getting comfortable. Yoda closed his eyes, snuggling close and quieting his mind. Obi-Wan tried to follow suit. He felt calmer than he had in months, still not balanced, but there was a warm rightness in the bond, in the Force, and in his mind. It was something he had started to feel after his knighting, but it had been lost when his strange attraction had begun. He would never have considered this as the path back to balance, but as usual, Master Yoda had been right.

He focused on his breathing, calming his mind, waiting for sleep to come. Years of masturbating before bed made it easy to quietly drift off after orgasm. Yoda was warm against his chest and in his mind, the room was quiet, even the houseplants felt settled and content. It was safe in a way he had not felt in years. He had scarcely closed his eyes before he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILER WARNING:** Interspecies intimacy. Hand job. Intimate grooming.
> 
> I will definitely not be able to keep pace as we've been going, but I will finish this story. For those of you still with me, there will be more intimacy between our odd couple in the next chapter, and then things will cool down to non-explicit until the end in case you wanted to skip over it. 
> 
> So, Obi-Wan and Yoda expressed their love physically. Let me know what you think. (My cats are lousy critics, unfortunately).


	26. Part XXVI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Yoda continue their discussion and their intimate time. More feelings are explored, Obi-Wan learns more about S-training, and other ways lizards (and humans) make love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from Ed Sheeran's Thinking Out Loud (again).
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lp-EO5I60KA
> 
>  **WARNING:** More sexual content. See endnotes as warnings are spoilers.
> 
> For those of you preferring to skip the Rare Pairing sexual content, it will drop down to PG in the next chapter and will be that way through the end of the story, though it will be discussed.
> 
> Also note that Latin (the Ancient Tongue) is the only class I took pass/fail in college (20+ years ago) so I used Google Translate. Please don't expect the translations to be correct and accurate.

_'Cause, honey, your soul could never grow old, it's evergreen,_

_And, baby, your smile's forever in my mind and memory._

_I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways,_

_Maybe it's all part of a plan._

_Well, I'll just keep on making the same mistakes,_

_Hoping that you'll understand._

\-- Ed Sheeran, Amy Victoria Wadge, _Thinking Out Loud_

A sense of unease was growing when Yoda woke in the middle of the night. It wasn’t danger he was feeling, that would have woken him earlier and more abruptly, but something wasn’t quite right as he rose back up to wakefulness.

He was still laying against Obi-Wan’s side, but Obi-Wan was no longer holding him and he had stifled his end of the bond, not blocking out his lover so much as trying not to disturb him or alert him to his feelings. While the bond itself was quiet, Yoda could still feel his distress in the Force and as he came fully awake, he realized the young man was controlling his breathing. Obi-Wan was in distress and was trying to hide it.

Yoda sent an inquiry through the bond. Obi-Wan sniffed noisily, sending back apology, which did not answer the question. The master raised his head and turned up the lights with the Force. He couldn’t see Obi-Wan’s expression, but he could see the gleam of fresh tear tracks on his cheeks.

“In pain you are?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Yoda assumed he meant he wasn’t in physical pain.

“What wrong is?”

Obi-Wan mumbled a reply that Yoda was fairly sure was supposed to be _overthinking_. His lover had woken up at some point and apparently had found there was one more loop on his emotional rollercoaster to ride through.

“Overthinking you have been?”

Obi-Wan nodded again, wiping his eyes.

Yoda hugged him, sending comfort down the bond. “Alone you did not have to be.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, wiping his face on his sleeve. “I was trying not to wake you.”

“Wake me you did not.” Yoda stretched, joints cracking. “Usually wake up at this time I do.” He wiped the sleep out of his eyes. “Uncomfortable I am making you?”

“No.” Against his will, a fresh wash of tears spilled down his face. “You’ve been a great source of comfort.”

“Afraid you are? Regrets you are having?”

“No.” Obi-Wan shook his head again. “I woke up and was just . . . thinking. And I,” he shrugged, as if to say he wasn’t sure why he had turned maudlin.

“Hmm, thinking what you are?”

Obi-Wan sighed deeply, but the tears still flowed. “I-I was just . . . I was wondering if this was how it was supposed to be. If this was how it was supposed to feel, if I had,” he swallowed. “If I had been trained like everyone else.”

“If Qui-Gon trained you had?”

“Yes. It wouldn’t have been like this, would it?”

“Hmm, different it would be, yes. Open himself to you Qui-Gon would not. Feel cold it might have. Or send you to someone else he would have.”

Obi-Wan nodded and his breath hitched.

“Hmm, upset you that must have. Sex without love, without trust, hurt you that would have.”

“Yes. I’m still . . . processing everything, and I didn’t want to start thinking about _him_ , but,”

“But realized you have that wronged you he did. Realized what you could have had you did, and how much worse it could have been.”

“Yes.”

Yoda sensed both Obi-Wan’s embarrassment for his feelings and his amazement that those feelings had been so clearly articulated.

“Hmm, if trained when young you had been, some things different would be, some things the same would be. Knighted you are now, a padawan you no longer are. Free I can be with you, more love I can give you. Hold back less I can. Yes, the Grandmaster I am, but an apprentice you no longer are. Not just an adult, but secure you are in your position. And your master I am not. Less likely it is for attachment issues to form. A very different situation that is. Also, older you are.” Yoda rubbed at his chest, sending comfort. “At the mercy of new hormones you are not. More mature you are, much more control you have. More patience, more prudence you have than the teenager you were. If my padawan you had been, do this we when younger you were we probably would have, but before you were ready not. Every padawan different is. Simet trained when eighteen he was, my lover he was for the rest of his training. Yan chose to request a different master for S-training. Share those intimacies we did not. Cin still grieving for his master he was when came his time did. Wait a few years he did, trained him when twenty years old he was. When ready he was. Stay my lover he did not, but a special time for us it was. Cold, lonely, and frightening it was not.”

“I think that with Master Jinn it would have been.”

Yoda pressed against him, pleased when Obi-Wan’s hand drifted back over his shoulders, returning the affection. “Understand you he did not. If open he could be with you, if asked for help he had, terrible if might not have been. But if open the heart one cannot, give S-training one should never.”

“So, what we did, was that S-training?”

Yoda snorted. “No. Start with meditation S-training does. Reading. Patience exercises. Self-exploration. Know how to do that already you do.” Yoda rubbed his cheek against Obi-Wan’s chest, purring. “Make love we did. If choose to remain my lover you do, show you many ways to make love I can, but formal S-training you need not. Mature you are. Learning you are. Passion you have, but Dark passions not. A considerate partner you are. Guidance you need, more than training needed is.”

Obi-Wan was quiet, releasing his feelings to the Force before he considered the next set of questions. “You said we made love?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yoda confirmed. “Express our deep love physically we did.”

“But I didn’t do anything for you.”

Yoda raised his head, gazing at the knight until Obi-Wan met his eyes.

“Share a bond we do, Obi-Wan. Share your feelings you did. Share your passion you did. Share your love you did. Share your body you did. Learn everything at once you are not expected to do, but mmm, very enjoyable making love with you was.”

“It’s . . . it’s still love-making, even if . . . if we didn’t have intercourse?”

“Yes. Told you I did, many ways to make love there are. Teach you this in Health Class they did not?”

“No. They mostly covered pregnancy and disease prevention.” He grew still. “I’m fairly sure I don’t have any sexually transmitted diseases, but in the interests of full disclosure I don’t tend to get tested for those regularly. And you, um, exposed your mucous membranes to my, um, fluids.”

Yoda burst out laughing. “Told you I did, need full S-training you do not. Already such a responsible lover you are.” He laughed harder, hugging Obi-Wan tightly. “Master of the Living Force I am. Very clean you are, no germs you have. Tell me this the Force does.” He patted Obi-Wan again, still chuckling. “Strong in the Unifying Force you are. Expect the Force to tell you this over a healer’s report you should not.”

“Um, no. I would not trust my Force sense for that.” He frowned. “But can you really trust it for that? Master Jinn is a master of the Living Force too, but, um, let’s just say he’s had to take some suspicious antibiotics before.”

Yoda snorted. “See it he can. _Pay attention_ he might always not. Confused his lust with the will of the Force before he has. More than once.” He sighed. “Very experienced I am but appreciate your honesty I do.”

“I’m sorry I turned into a blubbering mess. Again.”

“Told you I did. Many emotions well up will when these first steps you take. Worry not. Adjusting you are. Growing you are. Normal this is. As more experienced you become, work through your fears you will. Strong emotions you will feel, but more control you will have.” He pulled himself up higher and tucked his head against Obi-Wan’s neck. “A blubbering mess you are not. Alllowed to cry Jedi are, even when left the creche they have. A healthy way to let go it is. Feel better after you do?”

Obi-Wan considered it. “I do feel more balanced, more than when I fell asleep.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Feel that I can too.” He slipped his hand into Obi-Wan’s half-open tunics, rubbing his chest. “Still tense you are?”

“Not the way I was before. I’ll probably need to meditate in the morning.”

“Hmm, yes, many new experiences you have had. Consult the meditation book you should. Good exercises there are in there for coping with development and returning to balance.”

“It wasn’t helping before,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“The bond port pulling you out of balance was, trying too hard to compensate you were.” Yoda stretched, then settled back down. “Said you did that stopped self-pleasure meditations you had?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed, though he usually didn’t call them that himself.

“Try again you should. If think of me you do, be afraid not.” He stroked his hand down Obi-Wan’s chest, stopping at his waist, not wanting to arouse him. “Hard to keep balanced it is when take care of yourself you do not.”

“It was making it worse,” Obi-Wan replied. “Is it going to make the bond port active again if I do that?”

“Help the bond port to heal it will. Relieves stress it does. Releases tension. If grow back the bond port does, raise your libido it might. Be afraid not. Indulge it you can. See how you feel you should. See how it makes you feel you should. Get comfortable with loving yourself again.” Yoda gave him a pointed look. “Taking care of yourself you have been not.”

“No,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I haven’t been recently. It was making everything worse, not keeping me balanced.”

“Repressing yourself, repressing the bond port you were. Leave it alone now. Let it heal do. When take care of yourself you do, remember our time together you should. Remember where my touch good felt, touch yourself there and think of me do. When climax you do, remember my love you should. If afraid you are not, if ashamed you are not, a new balance you can find. When healed the bond port is, decide what to do you can, or decide for you the bond port might.”

“What do you mean, decide for me?” Obi-Wan sounded concerned.

“Depends on how heal it does, how you feel it does. Unusual it is for you to become aware of the port before completed the bond is. Our healthy bond growing is. Grow into the healthy bond it might, become moot point it would. Or grow back it might, feel the pull again you will. Connect spontaneously the new bond might. Prepared you should be, intense it can feel. Like a training bond forming it feels, but much larger, much deeper it is. If grow back it does, seal it we could or help it form the bond we could instead.”

“How would we help it?”

“Join our minds we could, follow the path the bond take would. Many ways there are. Shared meditation. Mental exercises. Breggle. Katas.” He pinched Obi-Wan gently. “Intimacy. Whatever draws our minds together does.”

“That sounds much less horrifying than it would have earlier today.”

Yoda laughed. “Progress.”

This surprised a laugh out of Obi-Wan. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Feel the Force you should. Good change this was in the Force?”

“I have been. It feels like this was the right path to take. That this is the path back to balance.”

“Yes. Progress.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you with my problems.”

“Sorry I am that help you sooner I did not. See you struggling I could. If trouble you have later be afraid not. Ask for help you can.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and he settled into the mat, releasing the pain from his thoughts so he could go back to sleep since Master Yoda seemed content to stay put.

“Feel sated you do?”

“Sated?”

“Satisfied. Content. Settled.”

Obi-Wan stared at the ceiling, considering the question. “Settled. Content. Yes. I wasn’t really dissatisfied before.”

Yoda snorted. “Sexual desire usually results from dissatisfaction not. Well, not when love there is first. Satisfying a hunger it is, fulfilling a desire it is. Addressing a grievance not.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “I don’t know. My libido has never really been a hunger for me. It’s more like drinking water when I’m not on a mission. Self-care is something I do so I don’t get thirsty, but it’s not really an activity I hunger for.”

“Mmm, so still horny you are not?”

“Um, no? I don’t think so?”

Yoda could feel Obi-Wan turning his focus inward, taking the question seriously.

“Is that what I felt before?”

Yoda chuckled. “So crude it sounds, yes? Deep desire you had, a bond port pulling you was, _and_ sexual feelings also. Sexual feelings still having you are? Hard to sleep it will be if unspent urges you still have.”

“My bodily urges are usually fulfilled by much less, Master.” His own touch had been adequate for years and was much less pleasurable than Yoda’s had been.

“Deeper desires you have now. Deeper pleasures tasted you have. Change your appetites may.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “When I take care of myself, once is enough. If I get stressed out enough, I don’t want to at all, though sometimes I will anyway to relieve tension.”

“How often masturbate do you?”

Obi-Wan willed away a blush. Given their earlier activities, this was quiet a reasonable line of questioning.

“Um, if I’m in Temple, or not on an active mission, I tend to masturbate to climax about twice a week. If I’m in the field, I usually just meditate, but don’t reach climax unless it’s a lower risk mission.”

Yoda raised his head to look at him. “Take care of yourself on missions you do not?”

“No.” Obi-Wan’s tone indicated he thought this was not unusual. “Not in war zones or during tense negotiations. I need to be focused.” He shrugged again. “I could soothe myself somewhat when I was a teenager if I needed to, but bringing myself to orgasm didn’t feel safe, and I was working hard enough that exhaustion was usually sufficient to help me sleep. When we returned to the Temple or were on a long hyperspace jaunt I could return to normal.”

Yoda lowered his head with a sigh. “Help you the self-care meditations do?”

“Yes. If I’m on a demanding mission I just stop before climax.” He shrugged. “It was more difficult when I was a padawan, but Master Jinn was in high demand and we had a variety of missions. There were many that were safe enough for _that_. Master Jinn made no secret of _his_ activities. But I’m usually on solo missions now.” He paused, as if thinking it over again and still finding it normal. “I’m typically back in transit before it becomes a problem.”

Yoda sighed, rubbing at Obi-Wan’s chest. “Poor young man. More joy in your self-care you need.” He hugged him gently. “What is the longest you have gone without self-care?”

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan frowned, thinking it over. “Twelve, maybe fourteen months?”

Yoda sat up to stare at him, incredulous. “Why?”

“Mandalore,” Obi-Wan explained. “We spent a year on the run with a teenage duchess. There was no privacy, we were constantly under stress and I couldn’t afford distractions.”

“And still you could not, even when returned home you did?” Yoda asked.

“I think I spent the first month home asleep. I was so run down and exhausted. Even Master Jinn cut down on my training so we could both recover.”

“Remember that I do. Worried for you both I was.” Yoda pressed against him. “Why start again you did?”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I had a wet dream just as I was starting to feel better and I realized how long I had been ignoring my body, or just not having any urges. Probably both.” He sighed. “The next day Master Jinn told me to start prepping for my junior padawan final evaluation, so it was probably very well timed, though it didn’t feel like it then.”

“Usually start S-training after students pass that masters do.” Yoda sent warm love through the bond.

“Yes, well. I took that time to make out a plan for completing my university studies. That’s why I finally asked him about it later. I was trying to fit in master’s degree prerequisites and I needed to fit it in around my Jedi studies.”

“Poor boy,” Yoda lifted his head. “Ever finish the master’s degree did you?”

“I did. Master Jinn left me behind to meet Master Drallig’s training requirements when he was dealing with the Hutts. I defended my thesis _and_ got moved up to Junior Knight Level saber training.”

“Tell me that before you did not.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I was having the desert dream again. I thought I needed to prepare in case I had to leave the Jedi. Education seemed to have helped my father.”

“Your degree in what is?”

“Interplanetary Relations,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Not terribly practical, but if certifies my experiences as a Jedi in the event I have to find employment outside the Order.”

“Always prepared you try to be.”

“If I can’t always live in the moment, I felt I should be prepared for an upcoming one.”

“A smart young man you are.” Yoda stroked over his chest. “A good moment in this night you had?”

Obi-Wan rubbed his fingers along a point on Yoda’s neck that had made the master purr. “Many good moments, despite the rough start.”

“Mmmm,” Yoda pressed against the touch. “More pleasures in sex than just orgasm there are.” He sighed. “Told you I did, formal S-training you need not. Picking up the lessons just fine you are. Make love again we should. Make sure I must that miss a lesson you have not.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Is _that_ your primary motivation?”

“No.” Yoda snuggled against him. “Something to check it is, make sure we should that these opportunities missed are not.” He reached out, stroking Obi-Wan’s neck. “Know I do that your lack of training worries you does. Feel left behind you do. Feel ignorant you do. Make love we did, training it was not, but hmm, point out the lessons you would have had I can. Or, if want to you do, find someone to train you we can.”

“You really don’t think I need it?” Obi-Wan sounded puzzled. “They always told us it was a fundamental aspect of Jedi education and development.”

“Heh,” Yoda scoffed. “Important, yes. Fundamental, no. Monks have S-training not if novices when young. Nuns the same are. Most Service Corp Jedi S-training do not have. Just classes, books, meditations, counselors if needed are. S-training required was not when a padawan I was. Do just fine the Jedi did. Centuries ago it was, millennia not. So different then it was not.” He snorted. “First virgin knight you are that Windu knew about, but more common it is than he thinks.”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“No.” Yoda continued to stroke him comfortingly. “Some species very different life cycles have. Their sex lives very different can be, some have none at all. Reproduce by budding they might. Or colonial organism they might be. Sporulate they might, or reproduce at the end of their life span only. S-training different is if only have sex when die you do.”

“Huh. And I thought _I_ was anxious about sex. At least it probably won’t kill me.”

Yoda chuckled against his neck. “Fear not. Little death only. Survive you will.” He nuzzled against Obi-Wan’s neck, pleased when Obi-Wan hummed quietly in pleasure. “Asexual Jedi there are also. More extreme than you. Some repulsed by intimacy are, complete S-training they do not. Some complete S-training with their masters do, but seek out partners after they do not. Some romantic partners have, but sexual intimacy they do not share. Some celibacy choose between S-training and knighthood; some stay that way after knighting, some do not. More variety there is than most people think.”

“Healer Vygor said I was atypical but still normal.”

“A wise man he is. Very true that is.” Yoda laughed quietly. “Told you I did, grow up in a monastery I did. Just starting puberty I was when left there I did. Many more monks lived and visited there, knights rarely did. Celibacy the rule was, the exception not. Very strange it felt when start to develop I did. The children would leave when hormones they would get, but less obvious this was for the young lizard that I was. Strange feelings, strange urges I would get, and sense such things from the monks I would not. Figure out what was wrong with me I could not. Good control I had, but slipping away it was. So sure I was that understand it the monks could not.”

“This is starting to sound familiar.” Obi-Wan smiled in the dark, stroking a finger along Yoda’s ear.

“Hmm, yes.” Yoda snuggled closer. “Forget how it is to be young when live for centuries you do.” He sounded slightly embarrassed. “Needed Simet to remind me I did.”

“When did you figure out you were normal?”

Yoda hid his face against Obi-Wan’s neck, shaking with laughter. “A long time after that, after left the Temple I did. Tried to explain to me Grandmaster Nehi did when came to the Temple the first time I did, but believe him I did not. The first person like me I ever met he was, and tell me he tried that normal these feelings were, that growing up I was, that control of my mind I would relearn. Horrified me it did. Mourning for Brother Bodan I was, thought that disgusted by this he would have been.”

It was Obi-Wan’s turn to send acceptance through the bond. “Because he was a monk? Or because he thought you would be one?”

“Oh, worse than that it was,” Yoda sighed. “Underwent puberty Brother Bodan never did. The treatments for his brain tumor prevented his adult development did. Very tall he grew, very large hands he had, a deep voice he had due to his size, but facial hair he had not. Body hair he had not. Bald head he had from the treatments, no _eyebrows_ he had, and bald all over he was. Small his privates were, develop they never did. Raised me he did, so tiny when first came to the monastery I was that kept me in his cell he did. Saw him naked many times I did. Watched him sleep many years I did. Wet dreams he did not have. Sex hormones he had not. So sure I was that understand my strange feelings he never would.”

“But now you think he would?”

“Yes,” Yoda nodded against him. “When returned to the Temple to train I did, Master Nehi took me in as a novice padawan.”

“A _novice_ padawan?”

“Rarely done this is, usually for initiates that a long lifespan have. No clear age cut off there is; often their development more variable is. Novice padawans kept in the Temple are until a master found is or choose to leave or become novice or docent they do, but completed their initiate studies are, and on an academic level padawans they have been confirmed to be.”

“Ah.”

“Also done this is for initiates when clear it is that monks they are to be. Stay in the Temple they do until old enough they are for novice training to begin.” Yoda shifted slightly, changing position. “Talked to Master Nehi I did, told me he did that Brother Bodan understood that growing up I was. Planning to send me to the Temple he was, but tell me then he had not. Figured out he had that the same species as Grandmaster Nehi I was, obvious when a child I was this was not. Uncertain my age was, so paying attention he was, saw the signs he did. Understood all too well he did that growing up I was.” Yoda sighed at the memory. “Master Nehi gave me Brother Bodan’s letters when returned to the Temple I did. Very proud of me he was. Told him the Force did that a Jedi Knight I was to be. Hoped he did that taught me enough he had, that prepared me well he had. Worried for me he was, because so small I was. Asked Grandmaster Nehi to mentor me he did until a master found for me could be. Upset at me he was not. Disappointed in me he was not. Concerned he was that needed more I did than give me he could.” Yoda was quiet for a moment. “Love me very much he did, but know he did that let me go he would have to.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his shoulders, sending comfort. “How long did you live with the monks before you came to the Temple?”

“Twenty-three years. Think they did that two years old I was when came to the monastery I did. Left the Temple for another twenty years I did, then a novice padawan I was until brought me together with a master the Force did. Very happy for me Grandmaster Nehi was.”

“Why didn’t he train you? Because he was the Grandmaster?”

“Hmm, old he was. Strong in the Force he was, but spry he no longer was. Teach me many things about the Force he did, saber drills he could still do, but go into the field he could not. A good mentor he was, a good friend he was. Like Bes is for Vos, a mentor in addition to my master he was. Be lizards together we could.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Lizards together?” He could feel Yoda smile at the memory.

“Spend time in the sauna we would, play Breggle there we would. Comb my hair he would. Teach me how to take care of it Brother Bodan could not, hair then we had not. Like Brother Bodan, bead with me Master Nehi would. Stories he would tell me about when Brother Bodan a novice padawan was, when still in treatment he was. Stayed with Master Nehi he did, chose to take the monk’s vows he did when started his heart problems did. Missed him very much we both did.”

Obi-Wan rubbed along his shoulders, sending comfort. “Twenty-three years is much longer than most apprenticeships. It must have been very hard to lose him.”

“It was. Still a child I was then. Learn to let go of attachments I had not. Wanted to kill the raiders I did. Wanted them to die in pain I did, like Brother Bodan had at their hands. A long time to let this go this took. Raised me with his own hands he had. Fed me, bathed me, taught me to speak he did. Held me up when learning to walk I was. Tiny pens he made so learn to write I could. The only parent I remember he is. My first friend he was. My first word his name was. Sometimes when meditate I do, feel his unsteady heartbeat I still can, so deep into my mind it reached. Had his love and care for twenty-three years I did. So very hard it was to let him go.”

“Was he someone who came back to you?” Obi-Wan asked gently. “You said they sometimes do.”

Yoda was quiet for several moments. “Know this I do not. Suspected this a few times I have, but sure I was not. A very different person I was before died he did. A child I was. More innocent I was. Love him very much I did, but know him as an adult I did not. Also hurt him they did, very badly. Never sure I was that recognize him I would. Much easier it has been to recognize friends that knew I did when grown I was.”

Obi-Wan continued to rub his shoulders, sending comfort through the bond. “I’m sorry, Master.”

Yoda pressed against him. “Alive I still am. Happen it still might.”

“Do people like you come back after living so long?”

“Little green lizard people?” Yoda chuckled at Obi-Wan’s attempts to be polite when he still didn’t have a species name to use. It wasn’t his fault, there wasn’t one.

“Yes.”

“Mmm, yes. Rarely I have seen it, but happens it does. Come back as lizards they don’t always. Hard to tell it is, so long they lived. Very different in a short life they can be.”

“Did you live before?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Hmm,” Yoda smiled. “Know this I do not. Show me many things the Force has, but clear memories of other lives I have not. Sometimes remember past lives clearly children do. Very rarely remember this adults do. Speak of it even more rarely they do. Just dreams they think the memories are.”

“That’s fascinating.”

“Hmm,” Yoda wondered if Obi-Wan would ask about himself. “Very interesting it can be. Unexpected returns are. Very different people can be in different lives, but some things the same always are. Memories of older lives affect the new lives can, other things are remembered not at all, but friendships seem to follow. Lead friends back together the Force does.”

“That’s very comforting,” Obi-Wan sighed, closing his eyes, turning this new information over in his mind. “I knew people who died too young. I hope they get a second chance.”

“Happen it might, even if recognize them you do not.”

“The Jedi teachings don’t discuss reincarnation,” Obi-Wan spoke quietly. “They tell us we release ourselves into the Force and become one with it. That we don’t retain our identities.”

“Come back the same people do not, but the core, the soul recognizable can be. Become one with the Force we do when die we do, but with us the Force is when alive we are. Think I do that gives back some souls the Force does. Know why this is I do not. Know I do not if some return not or if all return but few recognized are. Study this the Jedi do, but figure it out we have not. Someday the teachings change might, but hmm, wrong they are not. Just that more can happen than understand we do.”

“I’m glad that sometimes the people you love come back to you. It must be so hard to make friends over and over again.”

“Yes,” Yoda rubbed at Obi-Wan’s chest. “Easier to remake friends it is.”

“I’ve always found you easy to be friends with,” Obi-Wan sounded fond. “Um, until it got weird of course.” Obi-Wan did not take the final step, but Yoda could feel him thinking it over. He had come a long way tonight and wasn’t ready to open this book too. Yoda wondered what, if anything he remembered now, or what his dreams had told him. He wondered if Obi-Wan’s desert dream was a possible future or something haunting him from the past, despite Wallace’s assertion. It was something to discuss with Master Pythia.

“Stay awake you don’t have to, just because I am.”

“I know.” He shrugged the shoulder Yoda wasn’t laying on. “I should be tired, I haven’t been sleeping well, and I finally feel calm, but I’m not sleepy right now. I probably have to do a circadian meditation and reset my internal clock.”

“Still satisfied you are?”

“I think so.”

Yoda tickled at his chest gently with his claws. “So sure you are? Rude it would be if left you wanting I did.”

Obi-Wan stroked through his hair. “I didn’t come here with expectations.”

Yoda gave him a sharp look.

He tried again. “I didn’t come here with good expectations. Your . . . care of me was . . . I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Yoda chuckled. “Yes, older Jedi usually are when so attuned to the Force they are, _and_ such a strong bond with a lover they usually have not. During S-training a strong bond they often have, but less attuned they are. By the time your level of Force awareness they reach, difficult to find a close partner it is. Scattered their agemates are. Need guidance their padawans do. Many missions they are on.” He snuggled closer, sighing deeply. “A connection in your mind needed is for you pleasure to feel. The most important sex organ your brain is, even if Force sensitive one is not. Raised in the Force you have been, all your life. Unusual it is not to give and receive love in the Force, but relearn this faster as adults many do when get in the way hormones do not.”

“So it really wouldn’t be the same if I had been with someone I wasn’t so close to?” 

Yoda snorted. “Want to try it with other lovers you do?”

“No!” Obi-Wan squirmed, disturbed at the thought. “I’m just trying to figure out what was in my brain and what was in the bond and what was in my body.”

Yoda sighed dramatically. “So interested in a threesome you are not?”

“Um, _no_ Master.”

Yoda cracked up. “Teasing you I am.” He lifted his head to give Obi-Wan a smile. “Worry not. Enough of you there is to bring joy to me.” He laid his head back down and used his fingers to play with Obi-Wan’s chest hair. “Felt your passion through the bond I did, felt your joy. Mmmm.” He rubbed his cheek on Obi-Wan’s chest. “Trying to push you I am not. Want to be sure that a good experience this was for you.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, reading input from the bond. “Something is bothering you,” his tone was cautious as he resisted the urge to jump to the conclusion that he had done something wrong.

“Concerned I am,” Yoda conceded. “But bothering me _you_ are not.” He stroked his lover soothingly, sending reassurance through the bond.

“About what?” Obi-Wan asked.

Yoda sighed. “Your first time, special it should be. Warm. Loving. Gentle. Start in fear it should not. End in tears it should not. Enjoy this precious time with you I have, but concerned I am that remember it fondly you will not. Outweigh the bad did the good?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t mean to get emotional, but it wasn’t because of anything _you_ did, Master. I haven’t sorted all of my feelings out yet, but it has been a great relief to share my feelings with you and expressing them physically does feel like it’s returning me to balance. And it felt . . . it felt very, very good. I felt . . . as if you cared for me. I could feel love in the bond. I know I got a little sad after, but your care of me was very much a positive experience.”

Yoda hugged him tightly. “Good to hear it is that a positive experience for you this was. Wanted to bring you joy I did. Want to bring you joy in the future I do. But took care of you I did because out of balance you were, under stress you were. Not just because of my love I have for you. Frightened and stressed you were. Perfect no first time ever is, but about more than relieving stress it should be.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I really don’t know what perfect would be, Master. You were gentle, you didn’t pressure me, you were very patient. You shared your emotions,” he paused. “You helped me. You let me feel things, helped me to find release, guided me through my fears. You overwhelmed me with good feelings and never hurt me. I’ve tried to imagine how physical love could be when I’m so old, ignorant and unusual. I knew it would be awkward, how could it not be? I knew it would be confusing. It was confusing when I hadn’t even done anything.” He looked away. “I thought it would hurt, if I had actually had intercourse. It still might. I don’t have any experience with it, but I know it can go wrong, that fear and anxiety and miscommunication can lead to pain and injury and my lack of desire could make that worse. But you didn’t hurt me. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“Why fear hurting me you do?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I know you said I shouldn’t worry so much, even if I didn’t reciprocate this time, but I know that these types of things shouldn’t be one-sided. You asked me if I was sated, but I did nothing to pleasure, much less satisfy you. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to. It was so hard to even get . . . excited, and while I think I would be okay with . . . touching more of you, I don’t know if I could please you.”

Yoda kissed him on the nearest patch of bare skin. “Told you I did, fear this you should not, but understand it I do. Very nervous I was during my first time. Short woman she was but much taller than I am. So much more experience she had. But a very good teacher she was, patient, kind, and open-minded. Disappointed she was not when came quickly I did.” He chuckled quietly. “Mortified I was, but just laughed she did. Told me she did that my penis just one organ was, other instruments of pleasure I still had. Taught me to use my mouth for better things than swearing she did.” He smiled at the memory. “If enjoyed kissing me you did, thank her you can. Not the only teacher I had she was, but the first one I had who was brave enough to kiss the Green Virgin.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I don’t recall reading about the Green Virgin in the sagas.”

“Hmm, write sagas she did not, but write poetry she did. Have her book somewhere I do. Show you later I can if interested you are.”

“I am,” Obi-Wan’s voice was warm. “I love hearing your stories from when you were young.”

“Hmm, get you out more with young people we must. Good stories they have too.”

“I know. I do get out with my neighbors.”

“Know this I do. Good this is. Keep doing that you should.”

“I know some of my friends have been worried about me.”

“Noticed that you did?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan’s tone indicated he thought his was obvious.

“Hmm, good to hear that insight you still had. Easier to deal with going forward this will be.”

“I didn’t want to worry them. Or you.”

“Know this I do. Know this they do. Forgiven you will be if make it a habit you do not.”

Obi-Wan rubbed a hand over Yoda’s shoulders. “Is there something I’m keeping you from since you’re usually awake now?”

“Hrmm,” Yoda looked up at him. “Yes, clearly I should be convincing my young lover than worth my time he is.” He sighed. “Right I was worried to be. If done my job well I had, worrying now you would be not.”

“I’m pretty sure my worry is just my own anxiety, Master.”

“Exactly,” Yoda poked him in the chest. “If done well I had, too high on endorphins to worry you would be.”

“I think I’m in a relatively up mood.”

“Compared to when found you in the locker room I did?”

“Compared to the last month, actually. I think I was in much worse shape than I thought.”

“Yes. Agree with that I do. But when let go of your fear you did, much smaller your problems became.” Yoda pressed against him. “Afraid during your first time I did not want you to be.”

“Is that unusual?” Considering how much of a big deal his peers and society in general made of sex, a little trepidation seemed reasonable.

“No. Certainly outside the Order it is not. Very unhealthy some cultures about sex get.” He shrugged. “Of course if healthy everyone was, have you in my life I would not.”

Obi-Wan snorted, well-acquainted with the less conventional aspects of his history.

“Nervousness normal is. A new experience it is. Hurt it can if done wrong it is. Sometimes the only way to learn to mess it up is. But hmm, older lover I am. Experienced I am.” He gave Obi-Wan a speculative look. “If more relaxed you had been, really blow your mind I would have.”

Obi-Wan frowned, not quite sure what to make of this. “Um, I certainly felt it was an intense and transforming experience.” He shrugged. “I _did_ see stars.”

“Rattled the dishes you did,” Yoda chuckled. “Know I do that intense it was.” He stretched, making a pleased sound when his joints cracked. “Now that know you do what to expect, less fear you will probably have. Better it will be next time if more relaxed you can get.” He pressed up against the knight. “The question is, when happen that will?”

“Do you _want_ to do more with me?” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet, uncertain, aware that Yoda could have changed his mind after they had both rested.

“Kriff, yes. Rattled my _dishes_ you did. Love you I do and a hot stud you are.” Yoda stroked his chest a bit more deliberately. “Many things there are that do with you I want.”

“And there are things you want me to do with you?” He still sounded uncertain, but less afraid than he had been.

Yoda made a deep, purring noise. “Yes. When ready you are. Before then not.”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “How would you want me to take care of you?”

“With fear not.”

Obi-Wan reached up to kiss the top of Yoda’s head. “I know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Hmm. Smart young man you are.” Yoda snuggled against him. “Start out slow we should. Want to feel your touch I do. Want to feel your lips against my body I do. Want to feel your strong hands on my back I do while kiss the breath out of me you do.” He paused. “When ready you are, want to feel your gentle touch on my penis I do. When close to climax I am, feel your warm hand pressing on my testicles I want, until stop my moaning I cannot.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I don’t know if I can incite that kind of passion, Master, but I think I’d be able to touch you there. I think that would be okay.”

“Asking for this today I am not.”

“I know.” He ran his fingers lovingly through Yoda’s hair. “What else would you want?”

Yoda could sense Obi-Wan wasn’t asking to get aroused, but to get accustomed to the idea. “Hmm, what else I would like?” He chuckled quietly. “Massage I enjoy, feeling your hands on my body. On my back. On my shoulders. Stroking my neck. Want to rub myself on your body I do. With clothes. With clothes not. Want to sit in your lap with our penises between us, stroking, rubbing, gripping them together.” He peered toward Obi-Wan’s face. “Still okay you are?”

“Yes. I’m not ready for all that, but it’s not . . . it’s not repulsing me, or frightening me.”

“Good,” Yoda sighed. “More things I want to do with you.”

“What things?” There was much less fear now.

“Hmm, want to taste different parts of you, just your mouth and neck not. Hmm, want to find new ways to bring you to climax I do. Want to find new ways for us to climax together I do.” There was a significant pause. “Want to feel you inside my body I do.”

Yoda felt confusion over the bond.

“You aren’t referring to the tongue-kissing, are you?”

“Hmm, no.”

“I’m still not sure what you mean. The only act I can think of you said won’t work.”

Yoda laughed. “Close you are. Your penis still too big is.” He reached back for Obi-Wan’s hand, pulling it across his shoulders to lay on Obi-Wan’s chest in front of his face. “Beautiful, fine fingers you have. If slow and careful we are, fit they will.” Yoda pressed against him, humming in pleasure. “A long time it has been since a good fuck I have had. Toys we would need to start with but, hmm, if ever ready you are,” he shifted, releasing his hot arousal to the Force rather than letting it flow into the bond. “Take your fine fingers into my body I would like. Let you touch me deep inside I would. So warm, so deep, so full it would feel. A lifeless toy not, but part of your body, so deep inside. So much farther than reach I can myself. Every move, every twist, feel it I would. Touch my glands from inside you would, set fire to my nerves your touch would. Cover my mouth with your kiss you would have to, muffle my screams of passion you would.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Obi-Wan sounded a bit breathless. “I _know_ I’m not ready for that.”

Yoda laughed, sending him loving reassurance. “Ready for that I am not also. A very long time it has been. Less complicated ways to make love there are.” He stroked Obi-Wan’s fingers. “Content to feel your hands on the outside I am.” He wrapped his fist around Obi-Wan’s index finger, testing the girth. “Hmm, yes, narrow enough to take this into my body it is if slow and gentle you are. So good that would feel.” He leaned over, kissing the fingertips. “Be inside your body I could be too, if want that you do. Cover my claws I can. Hurt you I would not.”

“I know that’s something men do to each other, but I really don’t understand the appeal.”

“Anal play you have never done?”

“No. I’ve had exams, but they weren’t . . . enjoyable.”

“Like it you might not. Perhaps toys you would prefer. The same everyone is not. But a healer’s exam a good example is not.”

“Not. Ready.”

“So shocked I am,” Yoda deadpanned. “Other things we could do there are. Press the penis between our lover’s thighs we both can. Give oral sex to each other we both can do. Suck you I could until see stars again you do. Just the head though. A small mouth I have.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan sounded intrigued, but still a bit intimidated. “Would you want to put your penis in my mouth, and have me . . . do good things to it?”

“Enjoy that I would when ready you are. Suckle me you could. Stroke me with your tongue you could. Let me move gently in and out you could. Hum you could. Feel good all of these on my penis would.”

“That sounds less daunting than, um, anal play?” he seemed unsure if he had the term correct.

“Try everything we do not have to.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan breathed quietly. “I think I could do some of those things. Others I’m not sure about.”

“Frightening it sounds?”

“A little. More . . . overwhelming than repulsive.”

“Told you I did, okay to go slow it is. Masturbate more you should. Figure out what kinds of touch your body likes. Let you get used to different kinds of touch and love-making that can.”

Obi-Wan chuckled to himself. “It will probably be a while before I’ll want to do that.”

Yoda gave him a skeptical look. “Want to touch yourself now you do not?”

“Not really. You took care of me just a few hours ago.”

“Hmm,” Yoda lifted his head to catch his eye. “A young man you are. How long your refractory period is?” 

“Um,” Obi-Wan looked more puzzled than embarrassed. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried to determine that.”

Yoda did not look impressed.

“A day I guess?” he frowned. “I’ve sometimes masturbated the night before a mission, knowing I wasn’t going to be able to take care of myself regularly, even if I had done so the night before.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t.”

Yoda rubbed his chest reassuringly. “When work it did not, climax you could not or erect you could get not?”

Obi-Wan released some embarrassment to the Force. “Both have happened before.” He sifted through his thin memories of experiences he had tried not to dwell on. “If I was worried about the mission, if I was anxious in general, if Master Jinn was upset, or hmm, having his own loud relations, I usually didn’t get an erection, I couldn’t make myself be interested, even though I knew it was self-care. It I was just tired or had too many things on my mind about the next day, I could usually get an erection, but not bring myself to climax. I could still soothe myself, I would just rub myself for a while until I could fall asleep more easily.”

“What is the shortest time between orgasms you have had?” Yoda asked.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan considered the question. “I don’t think I’ve ever _tried_ to masturbate more than once per day.” He shrugged. “Twenty- _three_ hours maybe?”

“Make you feel shameful masturbation did?”

“No. The health teachers and healers were always very matter of fact about it. Master Jinn rather casually mentioned he assumed I did when he was going over how to wash the laundry, but neither encouraged nor discouraged it. He just thought it was something all teenaged boys did all the time and told me not to do it at the expense of my studies and responsibilities.”

“Masturbation for self-care instead of pleasure you did?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “It wasn’t that it was unpleasant.”

Yoda snorted. “If unpleasant it is, doing it wrong you are.”

“It’s just that, I did it more often than I really wanted to, so I’d be in better control of my body. If I only did it when I wanted to, I’d probably do it once a week, maybe less. But if I didn’t do it more often, my body would make the decision for me. So I did it to maintain control of myself more than for pleasure.”

“And if do it you did not, mess the sheets you would? Or get erections when awake you would?”

“Just wet dreams. I suppose it could have progressed to inappropriate erections if I had waited long enough.”

“Want your own touch more often you never have?”

“Hmm, only a few times.” Obi-Wan was absent-mindedly stroking a thumb over the nape of Yoda’s neck. The master was quite pleased with how quickly his new lover had grown comfortable with these small, gentle intimacies.

“When we came back from Mandalore, I went through an odd period where I was masturbating more often. I didn’t start immediately after the wet dream. I think I tried a day or two later, but earlier than I normally would have. I knew I had been ignoring my body and I needed to get back on track before it became a problem. So I started touching myself and . . . it was over much faster than it usually was and . . . I think I was a bit rougher on myself. It had me a bit concerned, it felt like the urge didn’t go away completely like it usually did, and I ended up masturbating the same way three or four days in a row. After the second day it didn’t really feel good or bad, but I felt wrong. Today I’d describe it as being out of balance, but it was more subtle than I could recognize then.”

Yoda snorted. “Horny you were. Normal that is after so long a deprivation. Trying to release tension your body and mind were. Find your balance again you did how?”

Obi-Wan chuckled at the memory. “I made myself stop and woke up the next day quite hard and feeling very frustrated at my lack of control. I meditated until it went away and then later that night I found myself alone. Master Tahl had returned to the Temple and Bant was on a mission to an aquatic world with Knight Fisto, so Master Jinn was _occupied elsewhere_. I had our quarters to myself and I meditated on the problem. Being rougher, more frantic, was not getting these urges under control. I made myself relax, really relax, then tried the opposite. Going very slow. Using gentle touches. If I started to go faster, I would make myself slow down, even stop.”

“Hmm, work that did?” Yoda asked, though he suspected he already knew.

“It was weird, it felt like I was wasting time doing something so frivolous, that was usually unimportant, but after a while it started to feel good again. The pleasure built up slowly and I felt it all over, not just in my penis. It took so long I started to think I wouldn’t climax at all, but it was feeling good, so I kept at it. I don’t know how long it took, but the sky grew dark and the Temple grew quiet so it must have been hours, so long that I thought my master would have been upset that wasn’t making better use of my time, but it slowly built up, slowly started feeling good again, and almost before I realized it, it was feeling very good. I think I moaned and then I just came, and it was still gentle but so intense and it seemed to last longer than it usually did. I don’t know if I passed out or just fell asleep, but I remember feeling . . . at peace.”

“Balanced.”

“Yes. It was very unusual at the time, but when I started doing personal meditations as an adult it reminded of that experience.”

“Surprising this is not. Discovered self-pleasure meditations by accident you did. Try it again you did not?”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head. “At the time it didn’t feel wrong, but it felt strange. It felt like I wasn’t old enough to handle that kind of feeling, even though I was doing it to myself. And the Force felt strange. And it took so long I thought it was something I really shouldn’t be doing. But it wasn’t shameful, just something that happened. When I started doing the self-care meditations, I realized it probably wasn’t unhealthy and I could have a better release without it taking so damn long.”

“Hmm, so slow, steady and gentle good for you is. Surprising this is not. Work very well that did when stroke your belly I did.”

“It certainly did.” He sighed. “So is it okay if I’m a little strange? And that I don’t know everything about myself?”

“Yes. Still learn things about myself I do. Learn things about you together we can.”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” Yoda pulled himself back up on Obi-Wan’s chest, kissing him gently. “Like that I would too.” He kissed him again, deeply, pleased when Obi-Wan cupped his head rather than pull away. “Okay to keep kissing you it is?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed. “I enjoy kissing you.”

“Mmm, enjoy kissing you I do too.” He made a slow, leisurely exploration of Obi-Wan’s mouth, not pulling away until he felt his lover’s breath quicken, then rubbed his cheek against Obi-Wan’s, feeling soft bristles where the young man had cleared his face with depilatory cream instead of a razor. “Shaved off your beard you did. Enjoy stroking your face I do, but tell you I must, sexy it was.”

“My friends weren’t recognizing me.”

“Hmm,” Yoda purred. “Beautiful color it was. Wanted to stroke it I did.” Yoda began to pepper his face with kisses. “Told myself that silly I was I did. Beautiful young man that you are, find someone else to admire your beard you would.” He reached out to stroke a hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. “Cut your hair also you did. So long it was getting.”

“It was strange,” Obi-Wan admitted. “It was different. I was feeling so . . . far from normal and I was trying to get back there. I know long hair wasn’t the reason I was feeling weird, but I was trying _everything_ to get back to normal, and before I grew out those,” he rolled his eyes. “ _Long, sensuous locks_ as one of my neighbors called them, I wasn’t having the strange thoughts. I didn’t think a haircut would cure me but with those kind of comments it was making me self-conscious.”

“Makes sense that does.” Yoda let his nails gently scratch Obi-Wan’s scalp. “But bad news for you I have.”

“Bad news?”

“Yes,” he tweaked Obi-Wan’s nose. “Sexy you are, with long _and_ short hair. Beautiful face you have. Play with your hair I probably will, no matter how long it is. Attached to you it is. Feel your enjoyment through the bond I can. Smooth against my fingers it feels.”

“I’ve never really thought of myself as sexy.”

“Alone in that you are,” Yoda snorted.

He shrugged. “I really don’t see it myself. I’m not really muscular, well, compared to other Jedi. I can’t tan to save my life. I’m not tall. I don’t stand out from the rest.”

"Hmm, use a mirror did you ever during self-care meditations?”

“Yes. I’ve done them without the mirror too.”

“Hmm, do together some time we should. Show you your own sexiness I could.”

“If you think it would help, I think I could . . . take care of myself while you take care of yourself.”

“Mmmm, exciting that sounds.” He settled back down and began kissing Obi-Wan’s neck. “Show you I will how beautiful at climax you are.”

Obi-Wan blushed all the way down his neck. “Um, thank you.” He looked away as Yoda chased the blood-warm skin with his lips. “Would you let me see you at climax?” he asked, nervous but intrigued.

Yoda smiled against his neck, then sat up and pressed Obi-Wan’s chin until he faced him. “Yes.” He looked Obi-Wan in the eye. “Yes. Share this with you I would.”

“Do you really,” he could barely get the words out. “Do you honestly think I’ll be enough to excite you enough to . . . since I don’t know how to make you feel good?”

Yoda could feel Obi-Wan trying to keep his anxiety at bay. “Yes, Beautiful. Sexy you are. Excite me this will.” He looked down at his lover, trying to decide how honest to be. “Know I do that bring me to climax you can, even if touch me you do not.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. “The Force is telling you that?” He sounded slightly incredulous.

“Ermm,” Yoda looked away, his own face flushing green. “No. Know this I do because happened before it has.” He made himself look Obi-Wan in the eye. “Thought about you when masturbating I have.” Obi-Wan stared at him in stunned silence. “Grown up you were. After your knighting it was.”

“You _did_?” he finally asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes,” Yoda wiggled his feet, uncharacteristically nervous. “Told you I did, drawing us together the Force was. Missed Simet’s hints I did. Missed the hints to myself I did too.”

“Was it weird for you?” Obi-Wan asked, sympathetic rather than offended or embarrassed.

“Weird not,” he shrugged. “The first young knight to pique my interest you are not. Unexpected it was. Unintentional it was, but weird not.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a few moments, but a smile was playing on his lips. “I’m glad that thinking of me gave you pleasure.” He seemed to calm, anxiety dissipating. “I don’t understand why, but I’m happy I could help you feel good.”

“Hmm,” Yoda looked him over carefully. “Tell you about it I could. Tell you should I?”

Obi-Wan’s pupils dilated slightly, he was clearly interested, but he checked in with the Force before agreeing. “I think I’d like that, if you’re comfortable with sharing it.”

Yoda leaned down and kissed him soundly. “So considerate a lover you are.” He snuggled down against his lover, tucking his head against Obi-Wan’s neck. “Thought embarrass you it might.”

“No. It surprised me.” He stroked Yoda’s hair, taking his turn at sending reassurance.

“Mmm. Understand you should, masturbation in our species very similar is. Feels good touch does. Relieves stress it does. Relaxes the body it does. Male I am. Touch my penis I do when need to get off I do.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan tried to sound encouraging.

“Embarrassing to admit this is, missed the hint I did, but told you I did, feel your mind brush mine when on New Flejet Station you were I did?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed.

“Hmm, afternoon meditation for me it was. Warm your mind was. Content you were. Good the contact felt. Missed you I did. Missed you more after the brief touch of your mind I did. No plans for the evening I had. All alone I was. Usually lonely I am not but felt your absence I did. Weeks in the field you had been, expecting you back soon I was not, and feel you in my evening meditation I did not.” He shrugged slightly. “Missed you I did, so came in here to sleep I did. Faint traces of you in this room there were.”

“There were?” He sounded apologetic, as if he had left an unpleasant odor or an untidy room behind when he had moved out.

“Traces of you in the Force there were. Felt closer to you in here I did.” He rubbed his hand over Obi-Wan’s heart. “Pulled out the sleeping mat I did, then wrapped myself in the blanket used you did when live here you did. Faintly smelled of you it did, not like the laundered sheets. Warm I felt, like with your rare hugs. Fell asleep I did thinking of your smile and your friendship. Very platonic it was.”

“It’s okay, Master Yoda. Believe me, I understand.”

“Mmm, you do.” Yoda nuzzled at his neck before he continued. “Know you do that wake up at night I do. Woke I did slowly, warm dreams I was having. Remember them well I do not, but with me you were and in the dream warm our bond was. Touching me I think you were, but in a sexual way not. In my half-awake mind, feel your gentle touch I did, feel like our bond open was, felt like hugging me you were, smell you I could and _real_ that was. All mixed up and half-awake I was.”

“And that made you think I was, um, attractive?”

“No,” Yoda snorted. “Already knew I did that beautiful and sexy you are. Old I am. _Blind_ I am not. Realized my body did that not only platonic love had for you I did. When work up I did, _hard_ I was. Smell you I could with every breath, wrapped up in traces of you in the Force I was. So far away I knew you were.” He ducked his head. Obi-Wan could feel slight heat as Yoda flushed again. “Touch myself I did.”

“Did it feel good?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

“Yes. Know how to take care of myself well I do. Very good it felt. Closed my eyes I did so that see you I could. Stroked my hard penis I did. Pretended I did that your arms around me were, that hold me you would while pleasure myself I did. That sharing each other’s breath we were. So good it felt, very aroused I was, hard and leaking in my sleep I had been. Soon slippery it was, rub harder and faster I did, and soon moaning your name I was, so close I was getting, so good, but wanted _your_ touch I did, wanted to feel your breath on my neck, wanted to feel your mind touch mine I did, and _kriff_ , wanted your real arms around me because shaking I was, shaking so hard when finally came I did with your face in my mind.”

Sometime during the story, Obi-Wan had started to control his breathing. “ _Wow_.”

“Yes. Wow. Came very hard I did. Made a mess in my pants I did. Long meditation I did about accepting things I cannot have later I did.”

Obi-Wan hugged him deliberately. “You can. At least for what I can give you.”

“Know this now I do.”

“It didn’t distress you?”

“No.” Yoda tipped his head up to kiss below Obi-Wan’s jaw. “Your friendship I had. Your platonic love I had. Get by on my exciting fantasy life I could.” Obi-Wan shifted beneath him; Yoda felt him through the bond.

“Offended you are not.”

“No.” Obi-Wan rubbed his fingers along Yoda’s spine, tracing from the base of his skull to his shoulder blades. “I feel less weird and alone in my strange tastes.”

Yoda snorted, rubbing at his chest. “Aroused you are getting?”

“Um,” Obi-Wan shifted again. “It seems kind of soon for that.”

Yoda began nuzzling at his neck again. “Twenty-three hours I think _not_. Heh.” He grinned as Obi-Wan gasped, pressing back against the contact. “Stop I should?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, a sobbing sound forcing its way out of his mouth.

“Hmm, keep going I should?” Yoda began to slowly slide his foot over Obi-Wan’s lower belly, following the same path his hand had hours before. “Hard you can make me, Obi-Wan. Make you hard I can too? Let me make you hard you will?”

Obi-Wan began to pant as he struggled to control his reactions. “I don’t understand.” An edge of desperation colored his voice. “It never comes back this fast.”

“Told you I did. Young, virile man you are. Your brain the strongest sex organ is. Stronger even more in you it is. Engaged your mind I did. Fired up your imagination I did. Told you I did how hot make me you can. Very powerful stimulus this is to the unchallenged mind. Your first sharing just hours ago was, fresh in your mind it is. Told you I did that bring me to climax you can. Bring me that pleasure you can. Make me cry out for your touch you can.”

Obi-Wan moaned and Yoda was pleased that this time he did not try to stifle it.

“Feeling good you are?” Yoda asked, ready to stop if Obi-wan preferred.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan continued to pant, struggling to stay calm. “I’m sorry, Master, my control is slipping again.”

“Apologize not, Beautiful. How seduction works this is.”

Obi-Wan stilled, staring at the ceiling. “You’re trying to seduce me _again_?”

“Yes,” Yoda confirmed, though he had stopped his enticing caresses.

“Why?”

“Why seducing you so soon I am?”

“Yes!”

“Because relaxed and comfortable you are, and open to learning you seemed to be. And because still underestimate yourself you do.” He shrugged. “Push your limits a bit I did, since awake we both are.” He grew quiet. “Stop I should?”

Obi-Wan took a calming breath. “What did you want me to do?”

Yoda sent love down the bond. “Feel without fear.”

Obi-Wan shifted again. “Feel?”

“Feel my love. Feel my touch. Feel your arousal. Asking you to pleasure me I am not. Asking you to let me make love with you again, without fear. Asking you to feel my love for you without fear. Know I do that fear to lose control you do. Know you do now that hurt you I will not. Love again you can with fear not?”

Obi-Wan managed to steady his breathing, but it was still coming fast. “Will you enjoy it? Will it pleasure you?”

“Please me your pleasure does, Beautiful. Stop we can, always okay to stop it is. Continue we can. Your choice this is. Love you I do, no matter what you choose.”

Obi-Wan was silent, but he was reaching for Yoda through the bond. The calm reassurance Yoda sent back melted his anxiety.

“Want me to stop you do?” Yoda asked as Obi-Wan reached for the Force.

“No.” Obi-Wan sounded embarrassed. “I want you to tell me first if you’re trying to seduce me.”

Yoda nodded. “Do this I can.”

“I know that sounds stupid.”

Yoda laughed. “Stupid that sounds not. New to you this is. The loss of control frightened you did?”

“A little. Yes.”

“Tell you next time I can. Figure it out soon you will I doubt not.” He rubbed Obi-Wan’s chest soothingly. “Sorry I am that frighten you I did.”

“I was more startled. And worried.”

“Why worried you are?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m worried that I’ll lose control like this when you’re _not_ trying to seduce me.”

“Understandable this concern is.” Yoda reached out to the Force himself. “So new to you this is. But, hmm, feeling the Force I am. Fear this problem you should not. Keep meditating. Keep taking care of yourself. Regaining you control already you are.”

“I don’t exactly feel in control right now.” Obi-Wan sounded a bit exasperated.

“Heh, come in your pants you have not.”

Obi-Wan paused. “You’re right.”

“More in control you are then think you do.”

“Huh.”

Yoda kissed his cheek. “To continue do you want?”

“If we do this again, will you show me how to touch you more, even if I’m really bad at it?”

Yoda pressed his face into Obi-Wan’s neck, sending love down the bond. “Yes. Share my body with you I will if want that you do.” He felt Obi-Wan release a bit of guilt into the Force for not actively pleasing his partner. “Oh, Beautiful, please me so much you do. So proud of you I am. So brave you are. Afraid to speak your mind you are not.” He kissed his cheek again. “Let me love you again you will?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “Yes, Master.”

“Thank you, Beautiful.” Yoda began nuzzling his neck again. “Kiss my neck will you, next time? Nibble gently at my ears will you?”

Obi-Wan moaned softly, the sound making Yoda tingle in anticipation.

“Put your warm hand on my chest will you? On my belly? In my pants?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Yoda began to slide his foot over Obi-Wan’s belly again. “Let me kiss your body you will?” He could feel his lover start to tremble beneath him. “Let me rub against you, let me press my body against yours will you? Let me feel your hot skin against my own will you?”

“Yes!” Obi-Wan gasped. “Force, yes!” His breath was hitching now.

“Get hard for me you can? Let me rub my penis against yours you will?”

Obi-Wan bucked beneath him.

“Spill your passions for me you will? Let me paint your body in my seed you will?”

“Mah-Master,” Obi-Wan could barely speak. Yoda could tell from his expression that he was about to grow erect.

“Yes, Beautiful. Grow hard you can. Show me your passions you can. Show me that feel my love you do.”

“Ahh,” Obi-Wan’s breaths were harsh and deep. “I’m getting hard for you.”

Yoda pulled himself up onto Obi-Wan’s chest and kissed him deeply, swallowing his surprised cry. The young man gasped for air when he was released.

“Two gifts for me in one night, Obi-Wan. Spoil me you do.”

“Always, Master.” He grimaced. “The spoiling part.”

Yoda laughed. “Know what you meant I do.” He kissed Obi-Wan’s lips again, catching one gently between his teeth before he began kissing down his body. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing.

Yoda’s lips traveled over Obi-Wan’s chin, down his neck, across his collarbone and down his chest, noting with approval when his nipples peaked and his abdominal muscles twitched and rippled in response. “Getting closer to my gift I am,” he warned.

“I trust you, Master.” Obi-Wan was breathless again, the lack of fear and the seductive words making him more excited than during their previous lovemaking. 

“Stroke me will you? Put your hands on me will you?”

“Yes!”

Yoda began to kiss and nuzzle his way down Obi-Wan’s belly, delighted when he shuddered beneath him.

“Kiss my body like this would you? Let me feel your lips dance over my body will you?” He stopped, unable to go lower without moving. “If grow a beard again you do, rub it over my belly you would? Let me feel your soft pelt against my naked body would you?”

“Oh-only if you recognize me,” Obi-Wan joked between controlled breaths.

“Write your name on your chest I could. No confusion there would be.”

“A name tag wouldn’t work?”

“No,” Yoda picked himself up to move lower. “Hurt those do when naked you are.”

Obi-Wan’s laughter ended in a gasp when Yoda sat himself across his thighs and deliberately laid down so his belly pressed into Obi-Wan’s still-clothed erection.

“Move against me you can.”

Obi-Wan trembled, eyes closed tight, but did not otherwise move. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Learned to ride pygmy rontos in my youth I did.” He tightened his legs around Obi-Wan’s. “Buck me off you will not.”

Obi-Wan shifted his hips experimentally. “Oh!”

Yoda grasped Obi-Wan’s hips with both hands. “Feel good that did?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Someday, writhe against my naked body you will? Buck and rut against me you will? Let me ride your passions you will?”

Obi-Wan was breathing hard. “I-I want to try, someday!”

Yoda resisted the urge to laugh, knowing Obi-Wan was expressing his current limits now that they were touching more intimately. He reached out and gripped Obi-Wan’s erection through his clothes, squeezing gently. “Do or do not, Beautiful. There is no try. But today, not.”

Obi-Wan trembled, his eyes rolling back behind fluttering lids as the Unifying Force suddenly took him. “Someday, Master!” he cried. “I will someday.” The momentary vision ended, his eyes flew open and he gripped the mat with both hands as if afraid of falling off.

“Moving in you the Force is again, Beautiful. Be afraid not.”

“That was weird.” Obi-Wan’s voice was surprisingly steady. Yoda squeezed his penis again before his arousal could lapse.

“Yes, weird that can be. Microvision you had. Usually open the mind to the Living Force sex does, but always not. So strong in the Unifying Force you are, small visions you can get.”

“I didn’t think Jedi sex would be this complicated.”

Yoda rested his head against Obi-Wan’s belly, laughing hard. “Usually it is not. Strong in the Force you are. Whine about your midichlorian count you will not.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, despite himself.

“Okay you are? Want to stop you do?”

Obi-Wan shook his head to clear it. “I’m okay.” He took another moment to assess himself, surprised by how intense his feelings could be when he wasn’t plagued by fear. “Can we slow down?”

“Yes, slow down we can. Going too fast for you I am.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t go that fast.”

“Alright it is, Sweet One. So well you have been doing. Told you I did, slow very good is. Release your fear. Disappointing me you are not.” He sat back on Obi-Wan’s thighs. _He_ had been ready to get his hands back into his lover’s pants, but Obi-Wan clearly was not. “Kiss you more I should? Seemed to like that you did.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Just not so low.”

“Yes. Gentle love I will give you.” Yoda curled his body to lay against Obi-Wan’s hip, avoiding pressure on his erection but letting him reach Obi-Wan’s torso, just below his sternum. He stroked his bare, upper belly lightly with his claws as he felt Obi-Wan release his anxiety, then slowly reached down to continue his gentle worship. After a moment, Obi-Wan sighed and began to caress his hair, again taking care not to push or lead.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan had a trace of laughter in his voice. “It kind of tickles, but not exactly.”

“A good tickle it is?” Yoda asked. The bond told him Obi-Wan’s arousal had slowed to a fine simmer, but the young knight was more comfortable than he had been when it was higher.

“Yes.” He began running a finger along the back of one of Yoda’s ears, earning him a delighted shiver.

“Hmm, feel good that does. Thank you.” Yoda gave Obi-Wan a gentle love bite, pulling gently on his body hair, then began to slide his foot again, this time along Obi-Wan’s thigh, slowly creeping toward the inner side.

“Oh-ohh,” Obi-Wan shuddered, not used to being touched there, much less when aroused.

“Mmm, found another good spot I did,” Yoda teased. He inched down Obi-Wan’s body and began to run one finger back and forth just under his waistband before he slid his foot again. “Think you liked that I do.”

“Ah!” Obi-Wan gasped, shifting as the pleasure built and his erection strained his pants. “It’s— it’s,” he trailed off, panting.

“Feels like a slow meditation it does?” Yoda asked, stroking his leg again. “Move through you the pleasure does?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan had calmed his breathing. “It’s wonderful.”

“Good to hear this is, Beautiful. Deserve wonders you do.” He stroked down with his foot again. “Kiss me here will you?” He stroked again, savoring Obi-Wan’s sigh of pleasure. “Enjoy being touched here I do too. Caress me here you would, Beautiful?” He slid his foot again. “Caress me here until beg you for climax I do?”

Obi-Wan frowned, even as he trembled. “Would you want that? That sounds cruel.”

“Ah, no,” Yoda chuckled. “An acquired taste that is.” He patted Obi-Wan’s hip reassuringly. “Beg you I would not because denying me you would be. Build slowly the pleasure would, so close to my peak I would be. If kiss me there you would, if take it slow like doing I am now,” he stroked again, waiting for Obi-wan to shudder and sigh, hiding his pleased surprise when their bond pulsed and his own mind warmed in the shared feelings. “Linger on the joyful edge I could, trembling with ecstasy, our bond flooded with our love. When ready to move on, when wait for climax I no longer can, beg you for release I might. Desperate I might feel, but know I do that torment me you would not.” He stroked again, and there was a hitch in the sigh this time.

“Wh-what if I couldn’t?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes tightly shut. A damp spot had formed on his pants, though Yoda was fairly sure he hadn’t noticed. “What if I can’t pleasure you like that?”

Yoda leaned over and kissed him right above his waistband. “Told you I did, teach you how to love me I can. Also bossy I can be. Tell you what I want I will. Force you I will never, but shy I am not. But worry you should not. When that worked up I get,” he pressed against Obi-Wan’s hand which had been stroking him intermittently amid understandable distraction. “Your simple touch in the right place, mmm, set me off like a rocket it would.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan giggled at the mental image.

“Funny you think that is?” Yoda teased, tickling at Obi-Wan’s belly through his pants. Obi-Wan’s gasp and the resultant bond pulse was very gratifying.

“Ah!” Obi-Wan panted harshly. “Oh, that’s, sensitive.”

“Hmm, yes Love. Ask to go slow you did.” He leaned down to punctuate each word with a kiss. “Slow. Good. Is.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan trembled beneath his lips. “I like slow.”

“Good, Beautiful.” He gave Obi-Wan a gentle love bite just above his navel, then drifted down to Obi-Wan’s waistband, licking underneath it, tasting his lover’s light sweat.

Obi-Wan startled at the sensation. “Master? How long is your tongue?”

Yoda pulled away, chortling. “Normal size it is.” He chuckled, kissing Obi-Wan’s belly apologetically. “A lizard I am. Fit in my mouth it does. Short enough for talking it is, but, hmm, stretchy it is.”

“For catching insects?” Obi-Wan asked.

Yoda stroked his foot again, not wanting his lover to lose focus. “No. Sticky it is not. Scientists think for cleaning the ears it is. Small children do that will when grow their ears do, and when shed their skin they do. Very itchy that is.”

He could see Obi-Wan try to imagine this, despite considerable distraction. “That’s rather long.”

“Also good for kissing it is.” Yoda leaned down again, but rather than kiss him, he tickled him with his elongated tongue, chasing after the twitching muscles. “Heh, many uses it has, ready for them all you are not.”

“Yes. Not ready,” Obi-Wan affirmed, but he was not afraid this time.

Yoda’s fingers danced above Obi-Wan’s waistband. “Ready you are to let me open my gift again?”

Obi-Wan suppressed a chuckle. “Forgive me for being rude, but may I ask what you intend to do with it?”

Yoda laughed outright. “Oh, giving gifts with strings attached now you are? So rude that is.”

“Um, strings, no. But, well, _I’m_ attached, so I think it’s reasonable to ask your intentions.”

Yoda pressed down against him, laughing so hard that tears leaked from his eyes. “Tell you I must, Beautiful. Adore you I do. So much. Yes, a reasonable question this is. Give a gift you have but give everything you are not expected to do.” He sat up and wiped his eyes, giving Obi-Wan a reassuring pat on his hip.

“Hmm, not sure yet I am. Stroke you with my hands again I could. See how long it takes to bring you to climax from just that we could. More massage oil we have. Like that very much you did. Hmm, reach lower I could. Stroke your testicles I could. Seemed to like that you did too.” Yoda cocked his head, not sure how Obi-Wan would respond to what he was about to say. “Pleasure you with my mouth I could.”

Obi-Wan seemed to choke on his own saliva. “What?” he managed to get out between coughs.

Yoda gave him an unimpressed look. “Heard me you did.” His gaze traveled down Obi-Wan’s body. The blush traveled from his face, down his neck and lit up his bare chest. “Inexperienced you are, but that naïve you are I think not.”

“Um, no. No, thank you. No.”

Yoda did not discount what was said at all, but he also listened to what wasn’t said. He got up and walked over to Obi-Wan’s head, sitting next to him so they could talk.

“Upset you I did? Embarrass you I did?”

“No, Master.” Obi-Wan reached up for his hand, calming when the small master grasped it.

“Anxious I made you.” Yoda held Obi-Wan’s hand against her own chest, sending comfort through the bond. “Too fast I went again, or bother you oral sex does specifically?”

Obi-Wan was quiet. “I don’t know if I can do that. And I don’t think I should . . . have that done to me.”

Yoda listened carefully, not wanting to assume, but still trying to read between the lines. “Pressure you I will never but want to understand I do. Makes you anxious this does why?”

Obi-Wan looked embarrassed, but willing to try to talk about it. “I know that’s a common way people pleasure each other, and I think I said I might do that when . . . when you had me very excited, but . . .”

“Hmm, more frightening it seems when your calm you have regained?”

“That seems counter-intuitive,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“No. Very normal it is. Fantasy very different from reality can be. What bothers you does? Too intimate it is? Too sensitive you are there?” He sent Obi-Wan acceptance and reassurance. “Disgust you it does?” He could feel unease through the bond. “Some people like it not. Alone you would not be.”

“Not exactly,” Obi-Wan’s voice was very small. “I’m not disgusted.” He breathed slowly, struggling to put his feelings into words. “I . . . I think someday I could . . . I could kiss your penis and . . . and let you,” he squirmed. “And let you put it in my mouth. After I see it.”

“Hmm,” Yoda nodded. “But want this from me you do not.” He stroked Obi-Wan’s chest, noting something was clearly bothering his lover, but that his arousal hadn’t diminished. “Think you do that hurt you I will?”

“No, Master.”

“Think you do that like that you would not?” Obi-Wan had certainly _seemed_ excited by the idea.

“No, Master.” He was very quiet, almost shy.

“Afraid to hurt me you are?”

“Yes. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Yoda stroked his neck reassuringly. “The Force my ally is. Not my first blowjob this would be. Take you on I can. Hurt me you would not.”

“It’s not just injury that concerns me.” Obi-Wan looked away and for a moment Yoda saw himself again as the sacred sage, even though Obi-Wan hadn’t been trying to send it.

“Hmm, improper you think it would be?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan whispered, unable to look at him. “I know you said to let go of my shame, and that _you_ were the one to even suggest it, but . . . it still feels wrong.”

“Hmm,” Yoda kissed him gently while he stroked his temple, sending a pulse of love down the bond. “Feel wrong it does how? In the Force?”

“No,” Obi-Wan gasped, the love no doubt calming him but also setting all kinds of strong sensations in his aroused state. Yoda was frankly impressed by his control.

“Because the Grandmaster I am?” Yoda asked gently, knowing that Obi-Wan had been doing well, but this might be a step too far.

“Partly. I don’t know if I could let anyone do that, especially someone I loved.”

“Hmm, understand you do that an expression of love this can be? Fear hurting me you do. Fear disgusting me you do? Or unworthy do you feel?”

“I don’t see how it can’t disgust you,” he admitted. “I’m,” he squirmed again. “I’m not clean enough for you.”

“Oh, my Precious Love,” Yoda climbed back up on Obi-Wan’s chest and tugged on his chin until the young man reluctantly looked him in the eye. “Disgust me you do not. Unworthy you are not. Unclean you are not.” He kissed his lover, reassured when Obi-Wan let him caress him with his tongue.

“Of course worry about that you do. Teenager you are not. Rare it is for lust for you to feel. Done this before you never have.”

“And you’re different. Your body is different and your senses are stronger.”

“Hmm, noticed that did you?” Yoda nuzzled at his neck, having learned already that this both comforted Obi-Wan and also stoked his passions if he relaxed enough. “Told you I did, smell good down there you do. Taste bad up here you do not. Mmm, want to taste you it makes me.”

“I want to be clean for you. Your hand is one thing, but this is your mouth, Master.”

“Yes,” Yoda pulled back to look him in the eye. “My potty mouth.”

“Master!” Obi-Wan’s scandalized laugh caught him by surprise.

“My dirty, dirty mouth,” Yoda teased, tickling at Obi-Wan’s ribs with his toes. “Tasted your seed already I have, Obi-Wan. Put it in my mouth all by myself I did.”

A fresh rush of bubbling arousal flowed down the bond.

“You . . . you did,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“I did. Savored your taste on my very long tongue I did.”

“You did.” It was clear arousal was warring with his reservations. “That came out of my penis, Master.”

“Did it?” Yoda feigned shock. “Thought it came from your testicles I did.” He pretended to think. “Hmm, wash those out you have? Use tiny brushes you did?”

“I don’t think that would work, Master.”

“Hmm, maybe if swallow them you did? Tiny brushes? Tiny bars of soap? Scrub each little sperm you should?”

Obi-Wan tried not to giggle at the absurdity of it.

“Very clean you are, Beautiful. Saw this I did when your first gift gave me you did. Freshly showered you were and very thoroughly cleaned yourself you had. Normal for you this is?”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan made himself look Yoda in the eye. “The dorm masters taught us how to clean ourselves, and I’ve woken up too many times with a catheter to get out of that habit.”

“Polite you are to healers, polite that is for lovers too. But forgetting an important detail you are.”

“I am?” Obi-Wan sounded genuinely puzzled.

“Yes,” Yoda kissed under his jaw, licking at his sweat. “Know I do that clean enough you are. _Washed you_ I did.”

Obi-Wan grew very still. “You did.”

“Know I do that very clean you like to be. Washed you I did, fresh and clean, so comfortable you would be. But also clean enough, hmm, if wanted to love more you did. Clean enough you were that suckle you I would have then if wanted that you had but clean you I did so worry about it you would not.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan shifted his body, his arousal rising. “You wanted to before?”

“Yes, Beautiful. Want to taste you I do. Want to suck on your penis I do. Want you to know how good it feels if someday want to suck me off you do. Want to show you how long my tongue can get I do.” He leaned forward to whisper in his lover’s ear. “Very good that so clean you are, Beautiful. Want to get you all messy again I do, so clean you up again we can. Let me make a mess you will?”

Obi-Wan whimpered, shifting his hips. “You’ll stop if you don’t like it?” He held himself still, trying not to tremble. “If I smell bad or taste bad, or move wrong?”

Yoda smiled against his neck. “Yes, Beautiful. Make myself uncomfortable I will not.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Yoda stroked a hand over Obi-Wan’s chest, a ripple in the Force following his touch. “Let you hurt me I will not, Beautiful.” He laid his head down on Obi-Wan’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “Stop I can if want me to you do. If overwhelmed you feel, if like it you do not, stop we can.” He stroked over Obi-Wan’s chest again. “Let me love you this way you will?” He could feel Obi-Wan reach out to the Force for guidance.

“Yes, Master.”

Yoda stroked his cheek, again pleased that no thoughts of Qui-Gon Jinn resurfaced. “So brave you are, Beautiful.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, releasing embarrassment. “I would guess most of your other lovers aren’t so intimidated by normal adult behaviors.”

“Some are, some not. Overcome by lust you are not, a gentle lover you need. Facing you are the things you fear. Very brave.”

“People don’t seem to be this nervous in the holofilms.” Obi-Wan rubbed his hand up and down Yoda’s arm. “They just . . . hop into bed and it somehow comes out right.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed as he began to start kissing Obi-Wan’s neck again, then his chest. “Also randomly burst into song they do. Accurate the cinema is not.”

“So we’re not supposed to be singing a duet while we do this?” Obi-Wan asked, guilelessly.

Yoda snorted. “No, my Love. Better uses for your mouth there are than sassing your lover.”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan giggled through his apology. Yoda gave him a teasing pinch to scold him, but never stopped his soft kisses. He had already reached Obi-Wan’s belly, delighting as his lover’s breath hitched. When the warm, bubbling desire was coming steadily through the bond, Yoda got up and carefully settled across Obi-Wan’s thighs again, resting his hands on Obi-Wan’s hips, looking down at his stained, tented pants.

“Open my gift I may, Beautiful?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and released a deep breath. “Yes, Master. I trust you with it.”

Yoda closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the deep love and trust flowing through the bond. “Thank you for your trust and the gift I do.” He reached out an unfastened Obi-Wan’s pants, exposing him again. Obi-Wan was taking deep breaths, keeping himself in control. Yoda wondered if he had ever maintained an erection this long before outside of his inadvertent meditation.

“Mmm, still beautiful you are, Love.” He gently stroked Obi-Wan’s erection with his fingertips, smearing the fluids which had been steadily leaking, making the skin slick to the touch. “A long time it has been since so young a lover I have had. So strong you are, still so firm, even when wait so long you have.” He stroked his clean hand along Obi-Wan’s still-clothed thigh, relishing the low groan this drew from his lover.

“Hmm, yes, very nice.” He stroked again, feeling Obi-Wan shift beneath him. “Hmm, strong young buck you are. A good to ride you it will be.” He looked down and began to kiss Obi-Wan’s lower belly, his cheek occasionally brushing the young man’s hot penis.

Obi-Wan bit his lip against a moan. Yoda smiled at his flushed face before he began to kiss down the other side of his belly, delighting as Obi-Wan’s hips began to move again.

“Yes, mmm, so strong you are, move my body you can. A good ride you will give me. Share our passions we will.”

“I want to,” Obi-Wan was breathless again. “I want to be a good lover for you.”

Yoda leaned down, letting his breath flow over the shaft of Obi-Wan’s penis. “You are, Beautiful.” After another deliberate breath, he leaned down to kiss and nuzzle at his gift, the scent of his lover filling his nose, the taste of his skin hot against his tongue. He purred deep in his throat as his lover whimpered and trembled beneath him.

“Feel good that did?” he asked, nuzzling again. “Enjoy my touch you did?”

“Y-yes,” Obi-Wan panted, trying to maintain control. “Did, did I taste okay?”

“Just fine you taste, Beautiful, but an acquired taste it is. Like it at first you might not. Normal that is.” He resumed his soft kisses, slowly working up and down, each pass getting closer to the sensitive head.

“I, oh! I want to help you feel good too,” Obi-Wan struggled to speak amid the intense sensations.

“Mmm, do that you will, Beautiful. Tell me this the Force does.” He waited a moment, then traced his tongue up the underside of Obi-Wan’s penis, tracing that touch that had so riveted his lover’s attention earlier.

“Ahhh!” Obi-Wan bucked hard once, then settled back down. Yoda moved with him, holding on with his legs.

“S-sorry.”

“Heh, throw me off that will not.” He returned his attentions to driving Obi-Wan to climax, caressing his lover with his lips and tongue, not stopping until he had reached the head which he began licking in long, slow strokes.

“Master!” Surprised by his own sudden outburst, Obi-Wan covered his mouth again.

“Hmm, touch you here more I should?” He licked again, his long experience with human lovers guiding him to the most sensitive places.

Obi-Wan moaned behind his hand, unable to keep still. Yoda held on to his hips, tightening his legs, feeling the strong muscles beneath him flexing, looking forward to other acts of love, to a time when they would dance together.

“Feel good that still does? Want more you do?”

“Master!” Obi-Wan struggled to maintain control. “Y-yes. It’s . . . it’s,”

“Better than your own hand it feels?”

“Yes.” He was breathless again.

Yoda licked him again, pleased with the sounds his touch elicited.

“Lick yourself here you have?” he asked, rubbing the shaft with his cheek.

“What?”

Yoda chuckled. “Masturbate with your mouth before have you? Short tongue you have but very flexible you are.”

“Not _that_ flexible. Ah!” he gasped as his lover resumed his love-making.

“Hmm, seen you practice Ataru I have.” He licked again. “Flexible enough I think you are. Enough motivation you have not.”

“I c-can’t say I ever tried.”

Yoda snorted. “Difficult for me this is not. Stretchy tongue I have. Teach me not to do that in public Brother Bodan had to do.”

Obi-Wan covered his mouth again, but this time to hold in a laugh. “They left _that_ out of the sagas too.”

Yoda laughed, resting his head on Obi-Wan’s hip. “Small child I was, know better I did not.” He chuckled again. “Much better at it during puberty I got.” He licked again.

“You’re _oh_ , very talented.”

“Teach you I can, even if a short tongue you have.” He resumed his ministrations, teasing at the slit.

“Ohhh,” Obi-Wan released a breathy moan, his hips moving restlessly. “Oh, Master, I want to pleasure you. I want to give you, ahh, gifts like this.”

“You will, Beautiful. You will.”

Yoda teased and licked at the head of Obi-Wan’s penis, enjoying the sounds his lover alternately let out or repressed. He used his hand to stroke and squeeze Obi-Wan’s shaft. “Enjoy your taste I have, Love. Let me take you into my mouth you will?” He punctuated his request with another lick, catching Obi-Wan’s fluids on his tongue.

“I d-don’t want to hurt you.” He gasped, mouth wide open as his lover’s hands massaged him.

“Hurt me you will not. Trust me you can.”

Obi-Wan panted, his body tense. “I’m n-not in full control, Master. I might, ugh, I might ejaculate if you do that.”

“Good. Want you to reach climax I do.”

Obi-Wan whined against his hand, trying to maintain control. “No,” he was breathing hard. “I might, I might climax while you’re touching me.”

“Come in my mouth you might?” Yoda began rubbing his thumb over the head, moving with Obi-Wan as the young man’s hips rolled into his touch.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan admitted, the sound close to a sob.

“Come into my dirty, potty mouth you might?”

“Yes, Master.” The bond was lighting up as his climax approached. “You feel so good, Master.”

“Please, Beautiful. To feel you in my mouth I want. Feel your joy I want when climax inside me you do. Want your hot seed in my mouth I do. Suck you I want, until hold back you cannot, until let go you must, until come so hard you do your seed over my lips will spill.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He couldn’t stop moving now, couldn’t stop the small sounds of pleasure tumbling from his lips.

“Hurt me you will not, Beautiful. Suck you may I?”

Obi-Wan was reaching into the Force to maintain his control. “Y-yes, Master.” He raised his head to look his lover in the eye. “Yes.”

“Thank you, Love. Treasure this gift I do.” He carefully lifted Obi-Wan’s penis to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the head before he opened his mouth wide. For an instant, Obi-Wan caught sight of his lover’s very sharp, white teeth and his animal brain shot a jolt of terror through him, but before he could begin to articulate his fears, hot pleasure engulfed him as his lover began to suck and he nearly climaxed.

Too overwhelmed to speak, too breathless to even moan, he opened himself to the Force, tears leaking down his cheeks. The Force began to move within him again, that powerful light was starting to pour into the room, and Yoda’s stars were starting to glow, slowly blotting out the look of mischievous delight he was sending his way.

“M-Master,” he was so close to losing his grip on his control. “I c-can’t hold it in!”

Yoda continued to suck, caressing his lover with his tongue.

 _Let go, Beautiful_.

Obi-Wan gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head as the Unifying Force took him and the Light poured out.

“ _Intus in copore movet. Nam et nos unum sumus._ ”

Yoda’s eyes opened wide at the ancient ritual words, usually uttered by monks and nuns when they reached ecstatic communion with the Force. While a knight could certainly perform the ritual as well, it was not something taught to the Jedi in general, and certainly would not have been taught to a padawan, much less one without S-training.

_The Force moves in me, for we are one._

The Force released him just as suddenly and he fell into his climax, the room lighting up again, his seed gushing into his lover’s mouth, a choked cry on his lips and this time his orgasm wasn’t a thunderclap of pleasure, but a deep rumbling wave through the bond, drowning both of their minds in ecstasy.

Unsurprisingly, the floor shook beneath them, followed a moment later by the rattling dishes, and the faint sound of something falling over in the apartment next door. Yoda winced mentally but reasoned that Tahl had sex with Qui-Gon Jinn, she would understand.

Obi-Wan lay flat on the floor mat, panting. Yoda gently took him out of his mouth, then turned his head to spit into a towel Obi-Wan hadn’t noticed before. When he was finished, he lay his head on Obi-Wan’s belly and fondled him gently as they both caught their breath, neither one speaking.

“Are you alright, Master?” Obi-Wan finally asked when he got his breath back. He was limp, exhausted, but his body was still tingling, Yoda’s gentle caresses soothing and deeply pleasant at the same time.

“A little stunned I am, Precious One,” he admitted. “Expected that much Light from you I did not.”

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I lost control.”

“ _No_.” Yoda was quite firm on this point. “Share your orgasm through the bond you did. Thought blowing your mind _I_ was. If young I still was, come in my pants I would have.” He pressed a kiss to a sensitive spot on Obi-Wan’s belly. “Alright you are? How feel you?”

“Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Not bad.”

“Bad not? Just bad not?”

Obi-Wan chuckled weakly. “The polar opposite of bad,” he clarified. “Master, you said the Unifying Force gave me a microvision before. It felt like something like that happened just before I climaxed, but I’m not sure. Did you notice anything weird?”

“Take you the Unifying Force did,” he confirmed. “Talk to Master Pythia you should. Techniques she can teach you to give you more control, or to open yourself to it intentionally. Told you I did, strength you have there. Develop it you should.”

“Did I say or do anything when it happened?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Remember you do not?”

“No. I feel like I yielded to the Force like I sometimes do during katas or combat, but I usually have a clearer memory of what happened during the trance.”

“Spoke you did. Told me you did that moving in you the Force was.”

Obi-Wan looked relieved that he had said something relatively mundane while so close to orgasm.

“Said it in the Ancient Tongue you did.”

“I did?” Obi-Wan looked very surprised. “I’m not fluent in the Ancient Tongue, Master.”

“Hmmm.”

“I know a few phrases from the sagas and Jedi rituals, and I can usually guess the meaning of short written phrases, but I can’t really speak it.”

“Try to say it. _Move in me the Force does_.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. This was not how sex ended in holofilms.

“ _Vitae magna? Nos simul saltabant_?”

Yoda stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

“ _Nos ambulavit in corpore_?”

Yoda laughed harder.

“ _Nos docti in universum_?”

Yoda wiped his eyes, then called over a still sealed water bulb with the Force. “Believe you I do, fluent you are not.” He kissed Obi-Wan’s belly again. “Write it down for you later I will. Worth exploring it is.” He rinsed out his mouth, drank a little, then offered the rest to his lover. “Something to tell you the Force might have.”

“It would help if it spoke in languages I know.”

“Spoke it well you did.”

Obi-Wan thought back to his lessons with Master Pythia. “ _Someone_ spoke it well. I hope I didn’t upset you.”

“Upset me it did not. Surprised me it did.” He retrieved a clean towel and wiped his face, then began to wipe Obi-Wan down, batting away his hands when he tried to help. “Very rare to hear that is.”

“ _The Force moves in me_ ,” Obi-Wan frowned. “It certainly did at the time.”

“Teach you any ritual phrases Master Turvis did?”

“A few,” Obi-Wan nodded. “Some are traditional in manuscripts. _Vox sonat in manu saecula._ ”

“ _The voice of my hand echoes for centuries_.”

“ _Finis incrementum sapienta oblita es_.”

“ _Forgotten wisdom limits our growth_.”

Obi-Wan passed back the water bulb. “ _In sapienta ambulate pacificus_.”

“ _Walk with peaceful wisdom_ ,” Yoda nodded. “ _May the Force be with you on your travels_. The traditional farewell to a knight leaving a monastery it is.”

“What did I say?” Obi-Wan asked, wincing.

Yoda snorted. “ _Dance together with the Living Force I do. We walked in the body. We learned in the universe_.”

“My Alderaani is better.”

Yoda laughed harder. “Better your Shyriiwook is _._ ”

“ _The Force moves in me_. Is that a common phrase?”

“Rarely used, but an old phrase it is. Much older than I am.”

“Huh.” He was quiet for a long moment. “The floor shook again, didn’t it?”

Yoda laughed heartily. “Yes.”

“Kriff!” Obi-Wan covered his eyes, mortified. “Is this going to happen every time we . . .” he gestured vaguely between Yoda and himself.

“Oh, want to do this again you do?” Yoda teased.

“Not if I bother everyone else.”

Yoda snickered. “The Master’s Tower this is. Comes with the territory it does. Very skilled lovers we can be.”

“I feel like I should apologize.”

“Worry about it not. Much more annoying Master Jinn is.” Yoda snacked on a few cheese cubes. After a few minutes Obi-Wan got up and poured out the rest of their room temperature tea and they shared the cup between them.

Obi-Wan yawned. “Should I go home?” he asked. It was early enough that he might be able to get out of the tower without running into anyone.

“Want to go home you do?” Yoda stretched and yawned himself. “Kick you out I will not.”

Obi-Wan yawned again, the night’s activities and the past months of being worn down had caught up with him. “I won’t be much good for conversation soon.”

“Of course you won’t.” Yoda took off the thin belt he wore under his utility belt, and loosened the ties on his cassock and pants. “Time to sleep it is.” He reached into the linen chest and pulled out the bantha wool blanket Obi-Wan had used when he had lived there. “Stay I can, or leave you alone I can.” He shrugged. “Invite you to my bed I would, but fit you would not.”

“Will you be comfortable if you stay?”

Yoda came up to him, stroking his hair before he pulled him down into a kiss. “Stay together forever we cannot but sharing your bed a joy is.”

Obi-Wan lay back down with a sigh, his arms loose at his sides, letting Yoda find a comfortable position. Yoda climbed back upon his chest, looking down at his new lover fondly. “Rest now you should. Be afraid of the morning not. Love you less in the dawn’s light I will not.”

“I still love you, Master.”

“Good.” Yoda lay down, snuggling against his lover, tucking his head into Obi-Wan’s neck. “Okay this is?”

Obi-Wan’s hands came up to rest on his shoulders. “Yes. Is this okay?”

“Mmm. Good it is.” They both began to drift off, the bond radiating love and warmth.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes as the lights dimmed. Their bodies seemed to meld into each other as they relaxed, as if they were made to fit together, despite their physical differences.

Half-asleep already, Obi-Wan’s hands drifted down Yoda’s back.

“Oh!” Obi-Wan came awake abruptly, pulling his hands away. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?” Yoda cracked open one eye.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t want to be touched there.”

Yoda snorted. “Touching my back fine is. Groping my ass you were not.” He yawned again. “Touching my ass in bed terrible is not.”

“Did I hurt you?”

Yoda opened both eyes and looked at Obi-Wan quizzically, waking up more fully at his alarmed tone. It took him a moment to remember where his lover had touched him and that he did have mild psychometric abilities.

“Ah. Fine I am.” He reached up to stroke Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Be afraid not. Older than Simet that scar is. Hurt me it no longer does. Ache a little it does if rain coming is.” He yawned again. “Good your hands feel on my body. Worry not. Sleep now.”

Cautiously, Obi-Wan returned his hands to Yoda’s lower back, gently exploring the divot on one side in the otherwise solid layers of muscle. Yoda felt a warm protectiveness flow down the bond.

“Rest now, Beautiful. Slay the dragons in the morning we can.”

“Just not the green one.”

“Heh, no. Better things to do with that one you have.”

Obi-Wan’s snort of laughter was the last sound he heard before he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING SPOILERS:** frank talk about sex, specific sex acts and masturbation. Oral sex.
> 
> So they are pushing a bit more at Obi-Wan's boundaries and getting him out of his comfort zone. And Yoda's getting all sort of new hints from the Force. And the floor keeps shaking. Any thoughts?
> 
> Also a shoutout to Cobalt Djinn who made some lovely artwork, which is linked below. Thank you so much. :D


	27. Part XXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bes has a nice morning, a disappointing afternoon, a frustrating evening, and a night he wasn't expecting. Si is preoccupied, Quinlan is surprised, Obi-Wan makes good lightsabers, Moosie knew way too much, Wallace is amused, Denna is mildly concerned, there are strange Force currents afoot, Bes feels like some of the readers, Wallace is amused (and still knows more than you think) and some of the clergy are traumatized (others can roll with it).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted lyrics are from Bon Jovi's _It's My Life_. I imagine a slower version would be better suited to Si and Bes, but I think the sentiment fit.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vx2u5uUu3DE
> 
> Sorry this took so long, work has been crazy AND my home computer got booted off the internet in a Microsoft update. (Bad Microsoft, BAD! No Cookie!) I am already working on the next chapter, which I _think_ will be the last one before the epilogue, but I've thought that at least 10 times before.
> 
>  **WARNING:** Discussion of adult relationships and sex. Self doubt and geezer romance.

_It’s my life, and it’s now or never,_

_‘Cause I ain’t gonna live forever._

_I just want to live while I’m alive._

_It’s my life._

_My heart is like an open highway,_

_Like Frankie said, ‘I did it my way,’_

_I just want to live while I’m alive._

_‘Cause it’s my life._

\--Jon Bon Jovi, Richie Sambora and Max Martin, _It’s My Life_

Bes sighed and stared at the chrono, trying to work up the will to get out of his favorite chair and go on to bed. The day had been long, odd, and disappointing. Staying up half the night wouldn’t fix anything. He really should just give up and try to get some sleep.

It had started out well enough. He had arrived early to PT to see Brother Artin spotting Si while he was doing some sort of bending exercise that showed quite dramatically why he was still so flexible in bed. This left Bes motivated to focus on his own routine while Si walked (further) on the treadmill and earned him praise from the monk. After his session he hadn’t slipped while in the shower (some new core exercises really seemed to be helping) and Si had sat with him for a quiet breakfast.

After breakfast he and Si had met Monti in Archives for another grueling morning of statistics. When he felt Si was settled, he scootered over to the main salle to watch the saber clinics. With all the new workshops and classes Cin was holding, it was really starting to get good.

After the clinic he took the long way back to Archives, stopping to admire artwork along the way. His favorite display was an array of children’s drawings of Master Yoda who had obviously posed for the class. After a pleasant detour or two he arrived to meet back up with Si so they could go back to the South Terrace for lunch. As soon as they left the partially shielded Library (which housed both Archives and Records), Si drew to a halt, looking concerned.

“Are you okay?” Bes asked after a moment.

“Yes,” Si nodded, slow to react. “Was Master at the saber clinic today?”

“He was,” Bes grinned at the memory of Master Yoda shaping the young minds as he had for centuries. “He had a group of students with him watching the matches. They were quite fascinated.”

“Was his duckling there?”

“Oh no, they were initiates.”

“No,” Si clarified. “Was he at the clinic?”

“Oh!” Bes laughed at himself under his breath. “Yes, he was at clinic. Still doing Soresu. Very good as always. Had a fine spar with Drallig, got a bit singed though.”

“Mm, did he talk to Master?”

Bes frowned. “No. He seemed a little embarrassed by the burn, and he didn’t come to the stands. Qui-Gon Jinn was very impressed though. He sparred beautifully, even with the loss.” He tried to remember more about the spar, expecting Si to ask about the technique.

“And Master didn’t speak to him?”

“No,” Bes shook his head. “He tended to his students. He did talk to them _about_ Knight Kenobi and his technique.”

Si rolled his eyes. “He was supposed to talk to his duckling by now.”

“It did seem as if the young man is still avoiding him, but Yoda was surrounded by a horde of younglings. Still it didn’t appear that they had resolved their issue.”

“Hmm,” Si grew silent again and was very quiet at lunch, eating even slower than he usually did.

“Are you alright?” Bes asked as he finished his own sandwich, while Si was still nibbling at his vegetable crisps.

“Yes,” Si answered, though he wasn’t looking at him when he said it. “Something is brewing.”

“Oh,” Bes couldn’t sense anything himself. Well, not yet anyway. “Did you want to come over for tea tonight?” _Tea_ usually did mean tea, either hot or cold, and good conversation, and if he was lucky a very nice make out session on his couch. Si’s bed was longer to accommodate his height, so they tended to have more physical activities at his place.

Si looked at him directly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can.” His eyes drifted to look at nothing, his attention on the Force. “I suspect I will be busy elsewhere tonight.”

Bes reassured himself, telling himself the polite refusal was not a big deal. Si had only ever refused him if he had a prior commitment: a healer’s appointment, a consult or a conference call with Cin or Monti. Once it was a delightful visit with a former half-padawan (in which case he had actually invited Bes to join them). Bes also made a point of not bothering Si on Tuesdays, knowing that was Master Yoda’s day.

“It’s okay. Maybe some other time.”

Si made a point of looking at him, giving him his full attention. “I look forward to it, Bes. I’m afraid I’ll be poor company just now.” He grasped Bes’s wrist with a shaking hand, squeezing gently and Bes’s heart warmed at the pulse of affection.

“Good.” Bes caught his eye and Si nodded at him before his attention returned to whatever he had been contemplating before. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the meal and Si was still sitting there, slowly chewing, when he left.

After lunch Bes signed himself back out of the home and met Quinlan at the Crystal Master’s workroom to look at the stones so his protege could practice some of the Kanu Resonance Tests on the teaching crystals. Knight Kanu had not been of Kiffar descent, but Bes had long suspected his unique affinity for the stones did incorporate some inherent psychometry, even though he had managed to design the tests to work without it. When he was still alive, Moosie had taught Bes a few tricks for screening the stones with both his Kiffar-given talents and the Force which were harder to explain in books.

Quinlan looked relieved when he arrived. “Master Bes, thank you for coming.”

“Always,” he smiled back, looking forward to the time with his protégé. “Did you get practice stones from Master Igneous?”

“Yes.” Quinlan picked up the first set of crystals in a flat box. “Master Igneous said he and Knight Kanu put these sets together for psychometric Jedi because the differences are more obvious when felt that way.”

Bes peered at the crystals as the box was opened. They certainly looked familiar.

“He said you’re supposed to start by washing them?”

“Yes, they should be clean to start and you’re supposed to touch them as little as possible,” Bes confirmed. “Washing them helps to remove dust, fingerprints _and_ psychometric traces.” He pulled on a pair of disposable gloves to help Quinlan get started.

Quinlan gently dunked each stone in cleaning solution and wiped the facets before placing them in the rinse for Bes to dry. “Master Igneous said Kanu techniques are hard to grasp. He recommended a workshop in a few weeks but said I should go through exercises with a more experienced psychometric person. He said I needed a teacher stronger than him.”

“You do,” Bes agreed. “Most of the Jedi in the Crystal and Minerals Department are mildly psychometric; it helps them find stones in the field and recommend stones for others. But you are hyper-psychometric. It’s a very different experience for you.”

“It’s harder than I thought. Much more complicated than what we got into as senior padawans.”

Bes chuckled. “Yes, it is. Master Dedrin explained it to me once. Most Jedi think picking stones is a Living Force thing, that you find the stone you have a connection to, like you would a tree or an animal, but it’s not. It’s actually a Unifying Force skill, feeling the potentials in the stones. That the stones do have something like a personality or a soul, they were built from organic and inorganic things, that there is some Living Force in them, but they aren’t alive, and reading them is part of the Unifying Force. It can be hard for Jedi to grasp.”

Quinlan snorted as he washed the last stone in the set. “No wonder Kenobi was so good at it. He leans so far into the U he has to sniff his milk to tell if it’s gone bad.”

Bes laughed. “Is he psychometric? He picked an exceptionally good set of stones.”

“Yes,” Quin confirmed. “But less than you are. He took his stones out of his saber for me and let me feel them.” He whistled. “Very nice. I can’t explain why or how, but they just sing together.”

Bes put the final clean stone back in the box, nodding in agreement. “I could tell from the sound, that’s a beautiful saber he has. And he has really put in the time to learn how to use it. If he leans that far into the U, you should have him feel the sets when you have candidate stones. Not that the Crystal Advisors can’t help, but he knows you very well. He may sense something.”

“Really?” Quinlan asked. “I know he has done a lot of independent study for his own saber, but he never really trained in crystal harmonics.”

“Was that his first multi-crystal blade?” Bes asked as Quinlan began laying out the tools and instruments on the table.

“Yes. His previous weapons were single-crystal.”

Bes waited until he caught Quinlan’s eye. “Ask the milk sniffer.”

Quinlan chuckled as he stripped off both the disposable gloves and his usual fingerless ones. “If you think it will help.”

Bes stripped off his own gloves and cleaned his hands with a wipe. “Are you and Kenobi lovers?” he asked.

Quin’s eyebrows shot up as he balled up his own wipe. “Um, _no_. He’s just a friend.”

Bes shrugged. “He’s attractive, good at saber work and has good Kiffar manners. Did Kressa get to him first?”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “No. I don’t think he’s into casual sex, Bes. He never brings anyone home.”

Bes remembered what Si had told him, that Kenobi’s love ran deeper than superficial lust. “Hmm, have you been on missions together?” he asked as Quinlan shook out his hands, resetting his senses before the first exercise.

“Yes, a few times, actually. Sometimes with Kressa, sometimes not. Windu says we complement each other well.”

“You’re not dissimilar to his master, but you treat him like an equal. That’s not surprising.”

“Huh.” He peered at the instruction sheet. “It says here I should isolate each stone to feel it but try not to touch it.”

Bes laughed and picked up a clean tissue. “You can use telekinesis, but if you’re not a Breggle player, a tissue works too.” He picked up a stone and placed it in the velvet-lined dish in front of Quinlan.

The young man looked dubious. “Was Knight Kanu a Breggle player?”

“Oh my, yes, he was,” Bes grinned at the memory. “Master Dedrin taught him many different Breggle games to hone his talents and help him focus. He used to play with Yoda and Si. Wasn’t as artistic as they are, he was more ordered, rigid, but very talented. He used to play with the monks and nuns too, right up until he died. He wasn’t a field knight, but he used the skills in his work. It was said he could go weeks without touching a stone, even though he worked more than ten hours a day regularly. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true either. He used to say the stones don’t like to be touched.”

Quinlan laughed. “I can relate.” He flexed his fingers, ready to begin. “The exercise says I should feel for singing, but Obi-Wan said it’s more of a hum, and all the stones hum quietly, but only some will hum loud for me.”

Bes blinked at him, stunned. “Yes, he definitely sniffs the milk.”

“Hmm?” Quin looked up from his attempt.

“They taught you in class that some stones sing, and some don’t and those you have an affinity for will sing for you?”

“Yes,” Quinlan nodded. That was what generations of Jedi had been taught.

“Master Dedrin explained to me once that Jedi strong in the U can hear quiet singing from all the stones. Initially it can be harder for them to sort out the signal from the noise, just like you had to learn with your psychometry, but sometimes they get it right off the bat. Most Jedi can’t hear singing from every stone, but a good stone reader can learn to sense the vibrations or ‘hum’. It sounds as if he just assumed you could.”

“I can feel this one psychometrically, but I can’t hear it like I hear my saber crystal.”

Bes waved his hand over the stone in question. “Same here. I can’t hear the hum, but I can feel it.” He grinned at Quinlan. “Moosie did these exercises with me once. I couldn’t hear it for most of the stones, but we would rate the stones in similar ways.”

“And Knight Kanu _heard_ the stones?”

“Oh yes,” Bes nodded. “Sometimes he would sing along to demonstrate.” Bes giggled. “He was a terrible singer.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one who can’t hear it.” He picked up the stone with a tissue, put it back and selected another, then shook his hands and tried again. “Hmm, I think I can hear this one. Kind of a soft _hmmm_ sound.”

Bes waved his own hand over the stone. “I can feel it, but can’t hear it. Note down what type of stone it is. You might have an affinity for it.”

“Hmm, Kethran emerald. Similar to my saber stone, but not the same.”

“Same family of stones,” Bes concurred. “Keep going but I suspect you’ll stay there for your new blade.”

“Did you for your first multi-crystal?”

“Yes.” Bes patted at his belt but did not put the weapon on the table, not wanting his stones to interfere with Quinlan’s readings. “Most Jedi do but the test is worth doing anyway. Sometimes a different type of stone suits one better in multi-crystals.”

Quinlan smiled at him, grateful for the help, taking notes and switching out stones.

“Did Knight Kanu help you pick your stones?” 

“Yes,” Bes nodded. “When he was still alive. He helped me sort through designs and make the final choices after I had a collection of potential stones. After I got my saber working, he refined it for me and showed me what he did. He replaced one bracket entirely, he turned one stone around in the hilt and he refined the power system. He also put a fourth crystal in the knob at the bottom of the hilt and redistributed the weight.”

“Why?” Quinlan asked as they continued to go through the stones. “Was it part of the beam path?”

“No!” Bes laughed. “I never even found it until after he died and my saber got submerged in muddy water and I had to open it up to drain it. I couldn’t figure out why it was there, but the balance was all wrong without it, even though the blade didn’t require it. Finally I just put it back where it had been and thought Moosie was just being Moosie and he thought the crystal was just the right weight. Moosie was a saber genius, but not always logical. Or more like he just worked by his own logic. I meant to stop by and get it re-weighted, but I was so used to it being the way it was that I never did.”

“So it’s still there?” Quin looked mischievous. “The most expensive weight in a saber hilt?”

“No!” Bes shook his head at the memory. “A few years after I found it, I was on a mission to the Joven homeworld and unfortunately I got into a shootout. A few shots got past my guard, one blew out my hilt, the shrapnel did a number on my fingers,” he held up a hand showing faint scars. “But fortunately the rest of me wasn’t _too_ badly damaged. I was taken to healers and when I was transferred back to the Temple my old master came to see me while I was convalescing. The hilt was a total loss, one of the stones took a direct hit and was completely shattered, and I was not looking forward to having to start again with new stones. My master took the whole thing apart to salvage what she could since I was still wearing a gauze mitten and she found the fourth stone completely intact and able to harmonize with the remaining two.”

“Whoa.” Quinlan’s eyes were like saucers. “The Force told him you’d need the replacement stone?”

“I think it did. When I was ready to start on my new saber I called up the plans for my old one so I could try to rebuild it. There were notes in Moosie’s hand for how to arrange them with the alternate stone and how much weight to put in the hilt knob instead. The arrangement worked and Igneous was able to help me tune it. We didn’t get full resonance, but it was a fine saber and still works today.”

Quinlan shook his head. “So Knight Kanu sniffed the milk?”

Bes laughed. “No, Moosie would have tossed it out on the expiration date. He was very rigid about some things, but it made him good at what he did.”

“Sounds like someone like me would have driven him nuts.” He finished with the first set and moved to the next one, putting his gloves back on as Bes followed suit.

“Oh, Qui-Gon Jinn drove him batty, but it was mutual. If he were still alive, he would definitely scold you about that whole Sirellian mud incident, but he would probably like your willingness to try new things and use you as a lab rat for new weapons. A lot of the Jedi he’d help with lightstaffs and daggers and with special features were like you, willing to take risks and not afraid to voice their opinions on what they needed. He wasn’t a field knight, so he had trouble anticipating what modifications a field Jedi might need, but if you could explain the problem, he’d come back in a day or two with five solutions and at least two of them would work. Absolute genius but an odd duck.”

Quinlan frowned at the stones in the next tray. All of them had been painted with a shiny, black lacquer.

Bes giggled. “Blind test. You can still feel them psychometrically through the coating, but you can’t see the color.”

“I guess we’re just expected to use the Force or something.”

Bes cracked up.

“Knight Kanu never had any padawans?” Quin asked.

Bes wondered if Yoda or Quin’s master was encouraging him to look at initiates. “No, he never did. He really didn’t have the right personality for it, didn’t interact well with young people. Or a lot of people to be honest. He was very close with his master, in fact they lived together until he moved into the monastery.”

“They were partners?” Quin asked.

“I don’t think so. I think Moosie needed to live with someone, needed someone to keep him in check, and help him to keep balanced. Sometimes people would ask him when he’d move out and give his master his privacy and take a padawan and he would just say he would do it _later_. Everyone stopped asking when he got sick.”

“I’ll bet.” Quinlan tested the next stone. He could feel its energy psychometrically, but he couldn’t hear it. He switched it out with the next one. “Must have been hard to date if he still lived with his master.”

Bes tried to stifle a laugh. “Oh, my, I don’t think Moosie ever dated, not really. He had friends he would go out with, he joined clubs and volunteer groups, and he served as an escort at the Senate Ball for a few friends, but I don’t recall him ever having a significant other.”

Quinlan up at him in surprise. “Was he okay with that?”

Bes shrugged, as if it wasn’t _that_ odd. “I never asked outright, but I suspect Moosie was asexual. Never seemed to be attracted to anyone, never responded to flirtation. I thought he didn’t recognize when others were flirting with him, or if he just thought they were teasing, but for at least some of the more persistent suitors he admitted feigning ignorance. He was somewhat private about his deeper feelings, so he very well may have had lovers when he was young, but his master served as next of kin at his funeral, so he probably didn’t have anyone else particularly close when he passed into the Force.” Bes frowned, trying to remember. “There were many mourners, everyone who reached knighthood dealt with Moosie in one way or another, but there were very few who were close enough to be in the inner circle. Most of them were Master Dedrin’s friends. Master Yoda lit the pyre so Dedrin didn’t have to.”

Quinlan frowned, thinking of someone else he knew who didn’t tend to have lovers. “That’s . . . sad.”

“I think Moosie would disagree. He wasn’t unhappy with his life. He didn’t have many friends, but he did have strong relationships with the ones he did have. He didn’t have a grand love affair, but he felt secure with his master. He was quite devoted to him, Dedrin was the most important person in his life. Not everyone needs or wants sex, but they did have a certain intimacy between themselves.”

Quinlan could say the same about his relationship with his own former master, though they hadn’t been sexually intimate since his S-training. “I guess if he was satisfied with his life that’s the important thing, but it seems like making your life lonelier and harder than it needs to be. Especially if he worked out of the Temple.”

Bes shrugged. “Not everyone is the same. People were difficult for him to understand. Lightsabers he understood.”

Quinlan sighed at the stones in front of him. “Maybe if I redirected everything in my brain devoted to sex to this it would be easier.”

“Oh, Quinlan,” Bes cracked up. “You’re doing fine. And Moosie already did that for us. You just have to follow the directions and practice.” He gestured at the stones. “You sorted out two you could hear. Look at the tiny numbers on the edge, and I’ll check the key and tell you what they are.”

Quinlan picked up the stones and checked the edges with a magnifying lens and yes, there were serial numbers on them. He was certainly grateful someone had made the sacrifices necessary to really figure this stuff out.

They stopped talking about the old days to finish the tests. Quinlan was able to practice several of the basic tests after identifying stone types he could hear, and they ran through them until he felt comfortable. Afterward Bes let him feel his own lightsaber stones before they went to the large display case with different examples of lightsabers, rigged up under safety glass that allowed Jedi to get close enough to feel the stones in their hilts, but also allowed them to be safely activated, even if a saber degraded over time. The schematics for each blade were adjacent to each hilt, just like they would be during First Lighting. Most of the hilts were made by Knight Kanu, though not all, so different degrees of harmonics were easy to compare. Oscilloscopes translated the tones and vibrations into a visual display, making the differences more obvious.

Bes walked down the line, looking at the different hilts: double-bladed, wide blades, narrow blades, paired sabers, paired blades, mixed-stone blades, variable length blades, safety blades, weapons scaled for a variety of users of different ages and sizes. All the way at the far end he found a familiar name. He pointed it out to Quinlan.

“Huh,” the younger man crouched down to get a better look at the example of an initiate training saber with a safety blade made by one Obi-Wan Kenobi at eleven years old. Curious, he tapped the button to activate the saber and it flared to life, the hum surprisingly strong and steady for a first lightsaber.

“Wow,” Bes gaped at the oscilloscope reading. The beam was smoother than some of the sabers built by padawans and knights.

“Ask the mild sniffer?”

Bes nodded, serious. “Definitely ask the milk sniffer.”

After cleaning up and returning the stones to storage, Bes and Quinlan left the workroom.

“I hope that was helpful to you,” Bes gave him a smile as he settled onto his scooter.

“I think so. Kenobi recommended a book that helped him but going over it with someone with strong psychometry was a big help.” Quinlan shrugged. “Well, Master Si recommended it first, but Obi-Wan sent me a download before I had a chance to find it myself.’

“Master Dedrin’s book?” Bes asked.

“Yes.”

Bes frowned, the mention of both Kenobi and Si reminding him of the discussion at lunch. “Has your friend been able to get himself sorted out?”

Quinlan sighed deeply. “No. We’re really getting worried about him, but he’s still going to his therapist, and he admits he has a problem. He hasn’t really opened up though.”

“Si was concerned.”

“We’re concerned too. Kress and I tried to get him to talk about it.”

“You still don’t know what the problem is?” Bes asked.

“No. All I know for sure is that he’s miserable, not sleeping well and is convinced Yoda will be disappointed in him.”

Bes frowned. This was consistent with what Si had told him, but he couldn’t imagine the dread that would cause the young man to isolate himself, much less fear Yoda’s judgement. The Grandmaster did set high standards, but he was far from cruel. “I hope he gets himself back on track.”

“Me too,” Quin sighed as they paused in the hallway before parting ways. “We’re keeping an eye on him.”

“Good.” They brushed their fingers against the other’s palm before heading off in separate directions.

When he got back to the South Terrace, Bes checked in. He had missed the morning meditations, but it was almost time for the afternoon session, so he found Wallace and brought him along. The session turned out to be a very nice group meditation about focusing on what you want to accomplish and determining a plan (which was not the usual, but it helped sometimes to focus on the practical once in a while and not just Force stuff). However, he was a bit concerned about Wallace, thinking this would not be an ideal meditation for someone incapable of planning. His worries were unfounded. Wallace immediately decided he wanted to see his padawan and a brush against his mind had led Wallace to share his mental image of Cin, a bright, smiling boy with a thick padawan brain, strong and fiercely determined to make his master proud. Knowing this could keep Wallace occupied for quite a while (even if he had to _decide_ to focus on Cin several times), Bes had squeezed his hand and settled into his own meditation, trying to figure out what he wanted in life. Did he want to accomplish something? Try something new? Meet a new goal?

The newest (and admittedly most exciting) thing in his life was hands down his relationship with Si. Si seemed content with the slow, gentle pace they were taking, but seemed to appreciate it whenever Bes was ready to take a step forward. Bes wondered what that next step should be. Since their first delightful encounter they had engaged in frottage several more times, and the last time Bes had followed Si’s example and worn a pair of fancy synthsilk underwear instead of his usual cotton and _wow_ , that had made a difference. The material was so fine and smooth and it helped everything slide, even through his pajama pants, and he had felt just the slightest psychometric tingle in his penis and it made him yearn for full skin-on-skin contact. Until he thought about being naked.

Maybe that should be his goal? Being naked together? Maybe he should spend some time being naked with himself? Or did he want intimacy rather than nudity? Si had mentioned other intriguing possibilities for future activities. Si had claimed he could still perform oral sex for the most part, but again, that would involve nudity. He wondered if perhaps Si would be open to receiving oral sex instead. He briefly wondered whether his dental partial would be an issue, he always felt he looked foolish without it, but Si had dropped in one morning last week when he was running behind on getting ready. Si had kissed him quite thoroughly despite his partial still being in a jar in the refresher, so Bes suspected this would not be a problem. Which had led him back to wondering about Si giving oral sex and how naked he would actually have to get.

In the end he decided on a different plan; mutual masturbation was something he was ready for. It didn’t require either of them to be naked or clothed, he would get to see what Si liked with less awkward (though stimulating) conversation, and he’d perhaps get a peek at Si’s toy collection. He really didn’t have anything himself beyond some personal jelly, but as he and Si continued to explore more and he had hit up against his physical limitations, he was starting to see the appeal. It was decided then. He wanted to move forward with Si, he wanted to suggest mutual masturbation, and he would ask Si about it after dinner. Perhaps not the most productive of plans, but _screw it_ , he was retired. It was a goal.

When the lights came up at the end of the session, Wallace turned to face him. “I want to have Cin come visit,” he announced.

“I’ll comm him for you, Wallace,” Bes promised.

Wallace looked him up, down and in the Force, then burst out laughing.

Bes tried not to blush. “What?”

“Oh, Bes,” Wallace patted his arm encouragingly. “Just tell him what you really want. He’s not going to say no.”

“Oh,” Bes let Wallace help him up, then kept quiet, thinking everything over and waiting for his friend to forget.

He spent the rest of the afternoon stringing prayer beads with Sister Drish, Denna, Wallace and a senior padawan with two broken ankles who was going stir crazy while the bones and muscles healed. There was a group of young students in a model Galactic Senate program coming for a tour next week and a simple bead meditation workshop was planned in addition to a lightsaber demonstration and a panel about a Jedi’s duty to the Republic and the Force. The future leaders of the galaxy might well be in their ranks and a little patience and introspection in the leadership was not a bad thing. They had almost finished them all by the end of the session, and they signed their names on the attached tags by the time the dinner chimes rang. Bes felt it was a worthwhile accomplishment (and it distracted Wallace from his sex life).

Everything had started to go wrong during dinner.

Si showed up to dinner and sat with him as he usually did, but he seemed even more distracted than at lunch. Bes tried not to take it personally, it wasn’t as if his attempts to move their relationship forward came on any sort of schedule, but Si not being focused on the here and now was unusual and threw a wrench into his plan. Slightly concerned, Bes had put off his plan for now and studied Si instead. He didn’t sense anything wrong in the Living Force, even when he thoroughly checked, which frankly was a relief. Si was 105 years old, his fairly good health wouldn’t last _forever,_ and Bes had remembered another afternoon a few years before when a good friend had seemed similarly distracted and had keeled over from a heart attack before the fruit cups had been passed out. Si’s heart was still going strong and steady, but he was clearly still sensing _something_ in the Force and was monitoring it. Bes could just barely sense it himself; to him it was very quiet, almost like a faint rumble just below his range of hearing, but Si seemed to be picking out a faint melody, like listening for a specific horn at the symphony if he concentrated. Bes wanted to ask what it was, but he could sense how tenuous Si’s grasp was, that he would lose whatever he was sensing if he stopped. So he talked to Denna instead.

Like himself, Denna was very much looking forward to the trip to Aleut’s.

“Are you going to ask Si?” Denna glanced at the man in question, who was looking off into the distance, his eyes tracking something Bes couldn’t see. Denna blinked at him as if this odd behavior was nothing of concern. “Rather, are you going to ask him later?”

Bes cast his eyes to Wallace who was monologuing on the wonders of fresh legumes to Sister Azalea while they both ate. “Ask him what?”

Denna shook her head at Wallace. “Are you going to ask Si to Aleut’s? You don’t get many good dating opportunities here in the rest home.”

Bes paused, considering it. “Do you think I should?” He glanced at Si who seemed oddly oblivious. “Si doesn’t leave the home much.”

“Hmm,” Denna rolled her eyes at both of them. “That’s why you should. Get him out of here. He’s starting to grow roots.”

Bes turned to glance at Brother Ospen across the dining hall. “Are there any spots left?”

“There were yesterday. Ospen was going to reserve the larger bus since more people than usual were interested in going.”

“Really?” It had been a while since they had needed the larger bus for a trip to the gallery, but some newer, younger residents had moved in since the last trip and Sister Reedlia had finally convinced two very stubborn old Jedi that it was healthier to go out on a scooter than to stay home and do nothing. (The phrase _if Master Silvanus can do it, you can too,_ might have been involved).

When he was finished with his dinner, Bes got up and made his way to Brother Ospen’s table. The monk gave him a small smile and gestured for him to sit.

“What can I do for you, Bes?”

“Hello, Brother Ospen.” Bes settled in the chair. “I’m sorry to bother you at dinner, but I was wondering if there were spots left for the trip to Aleut’s.”

Unexpectedly, Ospen sighed, looking slightly pained. “There _are_ spots left, Master Bes, but unfortunately we’re running into a bit of a transportation issue.”

“Oh?” Bes asked.

Ospen looked quite apologetic. “There isn’t a larger bus available right now. The only one not reserved is waiting for a part that isn’t expected until after the preview.”

“Oh, dear,” Bes frowned, trying to hide his disappointment. “We can’t take two smaller shuttles?”

“I’m trying to work that out, but it’s not going well, I’m afraid. We have volunteers to drive the second shuttle,” he assured Bes. (Piloting Coruscant’s air lanes was far from trivial.) “But unfortunately, I didn’t budget for the additional fuel and parking.”

“Oh.” Well that wasn’t good.

Bes tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. The fuel costs were probably not insurmountable. The Jedi Order had fuel reserves purchased in bulk and even if Ospen could not budget for it, there were residents who could scrape up enough credits to pay for it. But parking was a different matter. Aleut’s had its own parking facility and did allow them to park one vehicle during the event, but a second vehicle would not be accommodated. Parking in the Arts and Theater District was pricey and difficult to find, particularly during an event. And it would have to be paid for in credits, not scrip. Ospen would be loathe to ask his residents to supplement this, and while the vehicle fleet might be authorized to give them the fuel (outright or on credit), they had no ability to provide parking.

“Will we still be able to go?” Bes asked.

Ospen gave him a reassuring smile. “You were one of the first people to sign up, Bes. We might have to go on a first come, first served basis, but you will be fine.” He patted the back of his forearm, over his sleeve. “I’m still hoping a solution will present itself, but we’re putting a hold on tickets until this is solved. I’m sorry, I know it’s disappointing.”

Bes sighed. That idea had crashed and burned. “It’s okay, Brother Ospen. I was just going to try to convince Si to go. It was a long shot anyway.”

Ospen grimaced. Clearly, he wanted to get Si out too. “I’ll see what I can do, but it’s not looking good.”

“Thank you for trying, Brother Ospen.” Disappointed, Bes made his way back to the table just as one of the sisters began passing out dessert. Si was still working on dinner, his distraction making him even slower than usual.

Denna frowned at his expression. “No spots left?”

“There are spots, but,” Bes sighed and explained the problem. Denna looked as disappointed as Bes felt. Si didn’t seem to notice.

“I suppose we could have a bake sale or something,” Denna mused. “Parking is expensive, but not impossible.”

“We’re cutting it kind of tight,” Bes replied. “And we’d need help.”

“Could some of us take public transit?” Denna suggested. She still managed to get around without a scooter for the most part, usually only using them if she had to carry things but hadn't used public transit in years.

Bes frowned as he looked out across the room. Most of his fellow residents had mobility impairments of some kind and had come to rely on organized Temple outings rather than public transportation. Bes made a point of getting out periodically with more mobile friends, but he knew from experience that too many people in their group with scooters would be problematic. Not to mention the distance.

“If we were going to the Open Air Market or Cocotown, I think we could manage, but the A&T is a long haul on public transit, especially since they closed the tunnel.”

“How long is it going to be closed?”

Bes sighed. “They said six months three years ago. I’m not certain, but it would take about two hours to get there and we’d have to change busses or trains. Several times.”

Denna followed his gaze. “That’s not going to work. No wonder Ospen is upset.”

“I could probably manage it with an able-bodied buddy, but I’d have to leave early and leave the preview early.”

Denna patted his hand. “There are Jedi who do sometimes have business in and near the A&T. Maybe we can find a group to travel with.”

“Hmm, maybe.” He understood that as head of the retirement home and a Jedi monk, Ospen had few options. Clergy stipends were even smaller than active knights, but then again, clergy had few needs that were not provided for them by the Order. Housing, clothing, food, local travel expenses and basic toiletries were issued to them. They typically spent their meager funds on small luxuries or materials for their hobbies: nice sweaters (or in Sister Vella’s case, yarn), specialty beading or art materials, good quality pens, good lamps and magnifying lenses, woodworking tools. They wouldn’t have friends to borrow or beg from.

A microloan was certainly possible, but there was nothing to offer as collateral, nor anyone who wasn’t clergy or retired who could secure the loan. Ospen could appeal to his higher ups but as much fun as these outings were, they weren’t a necessity. Ospen had to prioritize, though he was well aware how important these trips were to his residents and having to say no was a duty he did not enjoy.

Bes glanced at Si and sighed. Si was sitting on a large pile of credits, but it was all in scrip. He wondered if it would be possible to purchase a parking pass through Stores, or with his scrip account. Scrip could sometimes be used for in Temple transactions and there were offices that purchased permits for various needs, but they probably would not be able to buy one for such a short duration unless it was quite a few levels down from Aleut’s and Bes really didn’t want to send some poor monk or nun to the lower levels just to park. It could get scary down there.

What they needed was credits. A bunch together, in one account from someone who could afford it. Everyone in the home was a bit tight with their actual credits. The Force was good for many things, but not for estimating how long one would stay alive. Bes _did_ have friends who weren’t retired, but he dreaded the idea of asking them for help. Active Jedi did tend to live thrifty lives too, field Jedi in particular. Maybe they _should_ hold a bake sale. Padawans were always starving.

“How much do you think we would need?” Denna asked. She had been a field Jedi, but not in Diplomacy, and had not had need to visit embassies, nor attend cocktail parties in either the Senate District or the A&T, or at least had been able to take public transit on those rare occasions. She didn’t have the faintest idea how much it would cost. Not that Bes would know much better.

“Hell if I know. 100 credits at least if Ospen doesn’t want to ask, assuming there isn’t another issue with the budget. That may include the fuel, though.” He frowned, thinking it over. “They usually give us one parking spot free since we tend to bring ten to fifteen people to fill in the crowd, and I know that Ospen supplements our tickets, we aren’t paying full price. If we could all spare a credit, it would still only bring up to twenty or twenty-five total.”

“The next stipend credits aren’t coming until the week after, anyway,” Denna sighed. “Would it be cheaper if we found parking further down? I think they would still let us unload the passengers at Aleut’s.”

Bes shook his head. “The A&T is still rather pricey, at least until you get out of the direct sunlight. The top levels are all theaters, galleries, performance halls and fine dining. Below that is the academies, the costumers, the supply company offices, the supporting type stuff, and housing for the stars. Below _that_ are the gyms, the tailors, the high nutrient food services, the art and dance supply stores, the laundries, the physical therapists, the wellness centers. Below _that_ is the housing for theater people, dancers and starving artists, in that order and below _that_ is the factories and sweatshops. Anything below that you start to run into black market economies and exploitation.”

“Strippers, hookers and ryll.” Denna nodded.

“There might be some shady bars and mostly legit business before that, it’s not the Gambling and Red Light District, but it’s nowhere I’d want to send Brother Ospen.”

Denna chuckled. “I think you’re underestimating Ospen. He spent years doing outreach in the Mid-Rim slums. I think he can handle a parking hanger in a rougher level. But finding short term parking will still be a challenge.”

“This was a whole lot easier when I had my own legs,” Bes grumbled.

“Ooh! The tunnel!” Denna straightened up, excited. “Could some of us take the bus to an adjacent district and then take a different tunnel to the A&T?” The tunnel system cut commuting time significantly when it was actually open.

“Good idea.” Bes turned on his comm and called up the transit program. “Hmm, no connection from Cocotown, the tunnel from the Senate District is the one that’s closed, the next closest is in the School Zone and on the far side, so that would be kind of a long haul just to get there, and in the other direction the tunnel is . . . “ he scowled at the screen. “In the G-Red.”

Denna took a moment to absorb this. “I think Ospen would prefer to park a few levels down in the A&T than have us change busses amid the casinos and brothels in the G-Red.” 

“Maybe we can just sit real close on the shuttle,” Bes sighed, knowing Ospen wouldn’t fly the bus if they weren’t seated properly.

“Yes, maybe you can sit on Si’s lap,” Denna snickered, then shrugged. “I can give up my spot if they can’t get the big bus. I’ve been there plenty of times and I know how much you and Loris love to go.”

“I don’t want to give up yet.”

“I know,” Denna patted his sleeve comfortingly. “But if it doesn’t work out it will still be okay.” She glanced at Si. “Ask Simet when he gets his head out of the Force currents. He can think outside the box.”

Bes stared at him, trying not to worry as Simet stopped chewing and cocked his head, staring at something he couldn’t see. “Do you have any idea what he’s sensing?”

Denna shrugged. “It’s probably something going on with Yoda. If it were about _you,_ he’d tell you by now, and there isn’t anyone else that important to him.”

Bes understood the logic but couldn’t see anything in the Force to confirm it. “Is Master Yoda okay? Is he sick?” Si was clearly worried or at least pre-occupied.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Denna seemed to follow Si’s gaze. “Something is happening in the Unifying Force. Something small, but important, many tendrils come from it and it can go many different ways. Good, bad, both, but it stretches far into the future. Yoda’s at the center, I think, but he’s not the only one.”

“Is it a Council decision?” Bes asked.

“No,” Denna shook her head, her lekku swinging, then looked him in the eye. “It feels personal.” Her lekku twitched, signaling uncertainty. “I know it feels like Si is ignoring you for Yoda, but whatever this is, a lot is hanging on it, Bes. I’ve seen him do this sort of thing before. He’ll get back to normal when whatever it is all settles out.”

Bes nodded. It didn’t hurt exactly but he did feel a little left out, and also a little inadequate, not strong enough in the Force to sense something that was obviously important to Si. His lover had warned him that Yoda was still very important in his life, and while a small part of Bes was trying not to feel jealous, a larger part was also worried for the Grandmaster, wondering what was happening and why Si couldn’t talk about it.

“How far does it go?” he asked Denna. “How far do the ripples spread?” He knew Denna had a better grasp of the Unifying Force than he did.

Denna followed Si’s gaze again, still not sure what he was seeing. “Far,” she finally replied. “Past _our_ lifetimes. Longer. There’s a bright strand in the mix, so bright that it shines, even in the murky Darkness to come.” She shook her head to clear it. “Whatever it is, leave him be. It’s important, he knows it but to most people it doesn’t seem to be now.”

“Arabadopsis seed. Something small now that could be far-reaching and will branch out later.” Bes tried to follow Si’s gaze, but only saw the salad bar.

“Yes,” Denna also looked at the serving station, but her eyes were on the fruit. “Exactly.”

Si continued to stare. “Oh, come on now, don’t be a _dumbass_. Go in!”

Denna and Bes shared a look.

“It’s definitely about Yoda if he called him a dumbass.” Denna was casually using the Force to steal Si’s custard. “If it was the Council there would be more F- and K-bombs.”

Bes tried to decide whether he should stop Denna’s thievery when Si’s arm came down suddenly to corral his wayward dessert, though he still never shifted his gaze.

“Stop checking the Force. Go _in_.”

Denna smiled as her efforts were thwarted. “He’s still situationally aware. It will all be resolved soon.”

Bes looked between the two of them warily. “If you say so.”

After dinner, Bes returned to his room, a bit glum, but hopeful. He logged into his data-processor, trying various means to solve the transportation issue. An air taxi would be almost as expensive as parking (and they would need more than one). They could possibly fit everyone on one bus if they didn’t take the scooters but Bes would be nervous about falling in an art gallery and taking out a display, and several residents would not be able to navigate the gallery at _all_ without them. They could probably afford to have the Shipping Department deliver the scooters to Aleut’s (and that _could_ be paid for in scrip), but the timing and the return trip would make it rather expensive. (And Si was probably the only resident with enough scrip credits and he probably didn’t want to go anyway).

He looked over the Temple shuttle schedule, hoping there would be something helpful there. There were regular shuttles to the A&T (and more were added when the tunnel closed) but the times corresponded to business hours in the district, not to when the preview would be. Still, Bes put in a query to ask if this was something that could be affordably arranged. Bes suspected this might be something Ospen might not be allowed to request but maybe he could. (Jedi bureaucracy could get weird).

Finally, Bes looked into the vehicle pool to see if there was an alternate vehicle Ospen had missed (or wasn’t certified to pilot). He found their reserved bus and their usual larger bus that was out of service for repairs. There was a tentative reservation on a second bus, but it was still pending (probably for the fuel bill). But there weren’t a lot of other options unless they called in favors.

There _were_ ships that could carry everyone, but they were modified troop transports, designed to pick up, carry and drop off field knights in riots, war zones and natural disasters. The seating would not be sufficient for the fragile elders. Most of the other options were suited for cargo or more exotic specials needs than scooters: humidity control, water immersion, variable gravity, or simulated atmospheres that varied in gas composition, temperature and pressure. Bes found it rather ludicrous that a Temple of their size didn’t have more passenger vehicles. What if they had to evacuate for exterminators or a fire or something?

Bes felt an odd chill at the thought, though they _did_ have evacuation drills when the weather was nice. Bes resolved to ask Brother Ospen where they were supposed to go if the weather was nasty. There were lower levels in the Temple complex that he had learned to evacuate to as an initiate, but that had been decades ago, so they very well may have been sealed off or infiltrated by outsiders.

After another few hours he had found neither an overlooked mode of transportation, nor an alternate evacuation route. No wonder Brother Ospen had looked so upset. There was a quiet tap at his door and then Sister Vella was gently opening the door to place his pill cup on the small table next to the door.

“Thank you, Sister Vella,” Bes rubbed his eyes. “Do you have any ideas about how we can get everyone to Aleut’s without the larger bus?”

The nun paused, frowning in thought, her face very expressive. Vella didn’t usually go on the trips to Aleut’s, but she did attend other outings, and she had been a field knight more recently than he had. She used the Force to levitate Bes’s pills and water cup to his desk so he wouldn’t have to get up, then put the tray with everyone else’s doses on the table.

 _Maybe if you sit on the scooter on the way over_ , she signed. _Or we can duct tape some residents to the walls and ceiling._

“I don’t think that will be Safety Compliant.”

Vella snorted. “Good enough for missions,” she slurred along with her signs.

Bes laughed a little. “I don’t think we can justify it, no matter how nice the art is.”

Vella frowned. “Master Denna can sit on the scooter, and you can sit on Master Si’s lap. That’s two more.”

Bes almost choked on his first pill. “I really don’t think Master Si would allow that, and he’s not going.”

Vella looked concerned, serious. “I’m sorry, I thought you two you were together.”

Bes blushed. Did everyone know?

“Um, we’re kind of dating. A little. We aren’t very public with it, and we don’t really go anywhere.”

Vella looked, for lack of a better term, dumbstruck. “ _Statistics with Monti_ isn’t a euphemism?”

It took Bes a moment to translate, the complicated words both more garbled and less familiar in sign.

“No,” Bes wondered if everyone thought he and Si were leaving the home to do something salacious, or against the rules. “Si is helping Monti develop curricula. He gets nervous going out alone, so I scoot over with him and watch the clinic or visit the art displays or attend lectures until he’s done.”

Vella looked strangely disappointed. “It’s good he’s getting out.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t serious about the scooter. Have you tried to reconfigure a diplomatic van?”

“A diplomatic van? I thought those were for cargo.”

Vella chuckled silently as he called it up again on his screen. “There are different kinds of cargo. Data processors. Art. Wine. Hutts. Royalty. You _can_ use a diplomatic van for cargo, but you can use it for people too. Different seats for different species.” She shrugged. “I don’t know the cost, but you could set up the seats and have room for the scooters. Or put the scooters in a hover trailer. If you do it right, you can fold the seats and put the trailer inside when you park or put the trailer on top if there is enough clearance.”

“I never would have thought of that.” Bes was genuinely impressed.

“I don’t know if Brother Ospen can pilot them, but I can if he can’t.”

Bes felt re-energized. “Thank you, Sister Vella. I’ll see if I can find an arrangement that works.”

She gave him a bright smile, something rarely seen when she had been a serious novice. “I’m glad I could help. Come find me tomorrow if you need help.” She picked up her tray. “Don’t forget to take your pills.”

Bes picked up his pill cup. “I’ll take them. Thank you, Sister.”

Vella signed _Goodnight_ one-handed and was gone before Bes could swallow his pill and respond. As his door closed, he turned back to his datascreen, resisting the urge to crack his knuckles.

“Alright. Let’s put some old people butts in a diplomatic van.” He selected a size that should fit in a standard parking space, then began looking at what soon turned into a bewildering array of possible seating arrangements.

The cockpit was not variable (though larger or smaller chairs could be brought in to accommodate different pilots) but the rest of the space had much more flexibility. There were bench seats, individual seats, luxurious seats in Corellian leather, troop benches, tubs, tanks, crates, and really weird loopy harness things for creatures that didn’t sit or stand like bipedal humanoids.

A bit overwhelmed, Bes opened the Social Calendar to see how many people had signed up. His eyes widened when he read twenty-two. With that man residents they would need at least three staff members (including Vella as pilot) and Ospen had said he had put a hold on tickets, so Bes added another five to his tally, bringing them up to thirty total. He spied a Configuration Virtual Assistant and started it, filling out the form for thirty in the van with a trailer for cargo.

It was frustrating as hell to say the least. He tried moving the seats in different arrangements, benches in the back, benches back to back, seats arranged the way they are on the short bus, seats arranged they way they are on the larger bus, and he still couldn’t get the numbers high enough. The tutorial had specific guidelines for evacuation (ironically), and would not put seats in such a way that blocked doors (which Bes couldn’t argue with) but no matter how he moved the little virtual chairs and bench seats, he just couldn’t fit everyone in, even as the tutorial insisted the van _could_ carry even more than he was attempting. He was starting to see the appeal strapping residents to the ceiling. And to the hood. And doubling up seats. He scowled at his own lap. At least _he_ didn’t need much leg room. Maybe the short people could all sit in the same row?

And the trailer was even worse. The model of scooter the home used was in the database, so it allowed Bes to try to virtually ‘pack’ them in different ways. When he opened the calendar entry he could see the list of hopeful attendees and he estimated they would need at least five scooters: one of him, one for Georgina, Loris usually shared one with Kenna, and one each for the two new converts. Truth be told, they would probably get along better with six or seven scooters (residents with minor mobility issues like Loris often preferred to share, helping to balance exercise and fatigue), but Bes could only fit four in the trailer. He had to tie the fifth one on top as it was. Perhaps they could tie the scooters to the ceilings instead of the residents. When he still fell short he tried putting the scooters in the van and the residents in the trailer, but that didn’t work either (and the program kept prompting him to request body bags for the ‘corpses’).

Frustrated, Bes finally closed the program and gave up, for now at least. Sister Vella had offered to help tomorrow, but no matter what he had tried, he still fell short. And with Si’s tall frame, there was no way he could fit into any of these configurations unless he was the co-pilot (which he certainly wasn’t licensed for anymore) and Brother Artin, their usual co-pilot, was equally tall.

Maybe it was time to just accept the things he could not change and let Brother Ospen make the hard choices. Which brought him to the here and now. Bes sighed and stood up, stretching, then decided to take a short walk before bed. His prosthetic limbs did make walking more difficult than relaxing, but when he was mentally worked up, the physical movement and effort helped clear his head, perked up his circulation and usually left him tired enough to fall asleep quickly.

He decided to do a quick lap around the garden on the short trail. The path was smooth, well-lit and frequently used by both insomnia sufferers and agitated dementia patients who weren’t sleeping, so it wasn’t exactly relaxing all the time, but it was smooth, level and frequently patrolled by the night staff checking for residents who had fallen or who had simply lay down to sleep amongst the bushes. Wandering dementia patients tended to be attracted to the plants, convinced they had escaped to the outside, then kept following the circular path over and over, unable to find the exit until they exhausted themselves. When they got truly agitated, it was sometimes best to let them work off their excess energy in a safe environment. It had been years since Wallace had needed it regularly, and these days he didn’t stop to fall asleep, but had to be supervised for his tendency to start weeding.

Bes turned off his data processor, took a sip of water to moisten his dry mouth, then headed out into the hall, marking his destination in his door to indicate where he had gone for the staff doing night checks. As he passed Si’s room on the way out, he noticed the privacy shields were still up as they had been whenever he had come by during the day, and for a moment he remembered Si turning down his invitation earlier. When Si had said he would be ‘busy elsewhere’ he had taken it to mean Si would be out and unavailable, which only now struck him as odd since Si never left the home alone. Had Si simply meant he would be doing something _not_ in Bes’s rooms? Had he meant he would ‘mentally elsewhere,’ communing with the Force? Did he mean he would be busy, not somewhere else but with _someone_ else?

 _Was_ ‘statistics with Monti’ a euphemism?

Or was something serious going on with Master Yoda?

Bes reached the path and began walking, thinking about his now discarded plan and his metamour. Bes had known that sometimes Si would put Yoda first, that Si put Yoda before his own welfare at times, but this was seemingly the first time he had done so since he had started his relationship with Bes. Was this something Bes couldn’t handle or had his anxieties been getting the better of him?

What was he really afraid of? Was he afraid Si would not want to continue to deepen their relationship? Yes. Was he afraid Si was going to break up with him? _Yes_ , a little bit. Was he afraid Yoda was more important to Si than he was? No, he _knew_ that Yoda was more important to Si than he was. Si had known and loved his former master for most of his life, more than a century. Si had been Yoda’s padawan before Bes had been born. Bes had been devoted to his own master, despite his sexual orientation, and they had a very deep, loving bond long past his knighting, even though their sexual relationship had ended with S-training. If they had been sexually compatible, he could well imagine that continuing over the years. When she had grown ill he had in fact dropped a casual lover to spend more time with her in her last months. Truth be told, if it had happened today he probably would have dropped Si too. So yes, he _did_ expect Si to put his dear master first and no, he wasn’t jealous because of it, just . . . a little sad and insecure, not because he didn’t want Yoda in Si’s life, but because he wasn’t sure how he fit in it himself. Si had been distant and distracted right when Bes felt he was ready to move forward, which was heightening his anxieties, but Si had been very upfront about it, letting him know he wouldn’t be available, and while he hadn’t given Bes any sort of timeline, he hadn’t indicated this would be long-lasting and Denna had seemed to think it was would resolve soon. (Denna was older than Si and they had been friends since before either had moved to the home, so Bes assumed she was a better judge of Si’s weird behaviors than he was).

He was getting worked up and as a Jedi he really should be releasing his anxieties to the Force instead of letting them fester. He really didn’t think he was on the path to the Dark Side or anything (he’d expect he’d need to be more able-bodied to be Sith material after all) but letting his doubts rule his mind just wasn’t healthy. And however long Si wanted to be intimate with him or not, he would cherish what they had already had, and while he wasn’t ready to do everything, he had decided that he needed to stop letting his injuries and scars hold him back emotionally. They held him back enough physically.

As for the trip to Aleut’s, he knew that was just bad luck, but anxiety and disappointment were a bad combination that worked synergistically. His anxiety made the trip seem more important than it really was, that not getting everyone there was tragic. He was a Jedi for Force’s sake, it was time for some damn perspective. Yes, it would be nice if everyone could go. Yes, they were all old and many were in fragile health, but Ospen arranged trips to Aleut’s a few times a year, so even if one opportunity was lost, everyone who was interested would get a turn (and being old mean a Jedi might be less likely to die suddenly). Maybe his talk with Quinlan about Moosie had made him so keenly aware that life was short, that one could die much too soon, even if one didn’t work in the field. He remembered Moosie had held out a surprisingly long time after his diagnosis, but his illness had shrunk his world, limited his activities, and taken his joys bit by bit before he finally died. Bes knew all too well that it was easy to do that to oneself, and Si had been doing that for too long already. It was time to bring those joys back. Of course he had to ask him first. And they needed transportation even before that.

Sister Vella seemed to think they could fit everyone in the van. She had more experience in that sort of thing, having worked for Diplomatic Support and Logistics when she had been a knight. So the problem was not insurmountable, it was just something he couldn’t do himself. And it was a trip to an art gallery, not a wild ride through an asteroid-filled debris field with a cabin full of refugees. He had once fit fifty-four people (and four babies) into a diplomatic shuttle but with security forces firing on them, no one was concerned that they hadn’t been safely seated. He had certainly thanked the Force for making it out of _that_ one unscathed.

Feeling less anxious and more at peace, he stepped off the path and walked back toward his room in the dark, ready to get some sleep. It was quite late now, or early, technically. Across the Terrace he could hear a familiar giggle in the dark. Apparently, Wallace wasn’t sleeping well tonight either, but at least he was in a good mood. Bes peered into the dark. There was someone with Wallace, he couldn’t see who it was, but he was reassured his friend was under supervision.

He paused at Si’s room on his way back and was very surprised to feel the privacy shields were down. Even more surprising, Si didn’t seem to be in his room. When he checked the board next to Si’s door it indicated Si had gone out to the gardens.

“Huh.” Surprised he had missed him, Bes turned around and headed back to the gardens. He knew that Si sometimes sat in the dark amongst the plants if he couldn’t sleep. With his mysterious, stressful day, Bes thought it best to check on him. Si had been worried about Yoda all day.

Seeing him in person was just an added bonus.

Bes entered the garden, but rather than going back to the path, he closed his eyes and specifically felt for Si. As usual, Si’s presence was quiet inside the Force, but if you were looking for it, it was hard to miss (and a bit embarrassing that he might have before). Bes didn’t know if Si had been the person sitting with Wallace when he had been leaving the garden, but he was sitting with him now as the other master giggled in the dark. He headed over.

“Bes,” Si’s voice was quiet, but alert. And welcoming. “What are you still doing up and about?”

Bes shrugged as he sat down sideways on the chaise next to Si’s. A little further down, Wallace reclined on his own chaise, giggling intermittently.

“I saw your privacy shields were down and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Wallace giggled again, but when Bes glanced at him, he was looking out into the garden shadows, so it was probably a coincidence.

“I’m fine,” Si reassured him. “A little stiff and parched from too much meditation.” He stretched and Bes could see a cold glass of tea on the table between him and Wallace. “But that’s easily remedied.” He looked Bes over carefully. “Are you alright? You were quite intent on your laps when I came in.”

“Oh.” Si had noticed _him_. Perhaps he had been more distracted than he thought. “I got stymied by a logistics problem and came out here to walk a lap and think it over.”

“Ah.” Si steadied his hands to sip his tea, then put the glass back on the table before speaking. “What did you ponder for the other six laps?”

Bes blinked in shock. “Other six? I can’t walk the path seven times.”

Si gave him a knowing look. “Clearly you can. I counted seven from the time I came in. I don’t know how long you were here before that.”

“Huh.” Bes was very surprised. “Why didn’t I fall?”

“Brother Artin asked for suggestions for barre moves for you since you seemed interested, and he’s been using them with you before your treadmill sessions for weeks. They help your balance and help your body build the muscles you have to compensate for the ones you don’t. I’ve seen a difference in your stability, but perhaps it was too gradual for you to notice yourself.”

“ _You_ suggested them?” Bes asked.

“Yes.” Si didn’t seem to think it was odd. “Brother Artin thought you’d like the dance elements more than rote therapy.”

“I thought it was for building stamina,” Bes mused. He had asked about it before.

“You need more muscle tone and structure first. The stamina comes from less struggling to begin with. He’s also said your back was developing well, he could feel it under your clothes.”

“Oh.” Now that he thought about it, he did seem to be falling into Brother Artin less often lately.

“I concurred. I’ve also felt it, but I can see it in your posture too.”

“Hmm.” He lay back on the chaise, then looked over at Si. Wallace giggled again. “Do you usually consult for PT?”

Si glanced over at Wallace, looking amused. “Not often anymore, but sometimes. I was retired by the time you were injured, but it’s not the first time I’ve been consulted about amputee rehab, nor about you specifically. If I recall correctly, Laelen delegated that sort of thing to Rolis, and they called me about you when they were still trying to get you back into the field.”

“Really? What did you recommend?”

“Hmm, I can’t recall all the details, but I did recommend bed-bound arm and abdominal exercises to keep you toned while they tried to heal up your leg wounds, music and rhythm exercises because you seemed to like those, getting you to sit up as soon as possible to keep your back strong, and to consult a Kiffar healer for psychometric issues.”

Bes frowned. All of those had sounded familiar, except the last one. “Psychometric issues?”

“In your feet and legs.”

“What do you mean?” Bes sounded genuinely puzzled.

“I’m not particularly psychometric myself,” Si explained. “But I’ve dealt with injured, psychometric Jed before, though none of the seriously injured were Kiffar. I know from reading up on it that while hands are generally the strongest site for the ability, this is not universal and that Kiffar can have varying abilities all over their bodies. You are a psychometric Kiffar who was now a double lower extremity amputee. That alone would make me concerned about how this would affect your psychometric sense, depending on how much input you had received through your feet, but you always had exceptionally good footwork before your injury, so I suspected you might have been particularly psychometric there and losing that sense might make your recovery more difficult as it would not be accounted for in prosthetics.”

Bes tried to remember what if had been like to have his own legs. About being a child in the creche getting scolded for taking off his socks and shoes to run around barefoot or walking around his quarters in his stocking feet and being grateful his master never minded. He thought about classes when the instructors would have them go barefoot when they were doing hand to hand or saber drills or movement katas and how much more natural it had felt for him. He remembered meditating with his bare feet in the grass, feeling the Living Force so strongly.

He really _had_ felt so much through his feet, and his prosthetics always felt so cold and wrong. He assumed that was normal, was told he would eventually adapt to the neural inputs, but it always seemed like something was missing, always seemed even worse when he put shoes over his prosthetics. He always seemed much steadier walking on his caps, even though it made him feel like an animal, too close to the ground, not skilled enough to walk fully upright anymore. Was his missing psychometry to blame?

“Force, Si. I think you’re right!”

“Hmm?” Si asked, though he was looking at Wallace.

“I’ve never thought about the psychometry in my feet. Getting the prosthetics felt wrong, but I thought that was normal. I never really thought about the psychometric inputs that were missing.”

Si turned to look at him. “I take it they never consulted a Kiffar healer then?”

“Not with me. I don’t know if they consulted amongst themselves.”

Si looked pained. “I’m sorry, Bes. I was very specific that a Kiffar healer should examine you, discuss psychometric issues with you and consult with your PT team. They said you were working very hard to return to the field and I told them that a Kiffar consult was essential. Laelen tended to not being willing to go the extra mile and may have ignored it, though I’m surprised your healers didn’t take the initiative themselves.”

Bes frowned, thinking back. “I don’t think it was Laelen, actually.”

“For once?” Si scoffed.

“For once,” Bes agreed. “Right before I was injured there was a domestic crisis happening on Kiffu. Well, the ongoing strike that keep rearing its head kicked up again and there was a lock down on travel off the planet. Any healers _on_ Kiffu and other Kiffar worlds couldn’t leave and there was a call for ex-patriates to return. The Council actually sent nearly all Kiffar Jedi, knights, healers and Service Corps, out on missions so they could have an obligation to prevent their return, which was good because anyone perceived as a political opponent or outsider was being jailed or executed. _I_ was called and told them _three times_ that I was no longer a Kiffar citizen _and_ I was too medically fragile to travel. They could pressure you but they couldn’t actually make you go. Crazy time. I’m guessing that’s why they never got a Kiffar consult.”

“That’s not unreasonable,” Si conceded. “Though you should see if they can do it now.”

Bes raised his eyebrows. “You really think it will make a difference now?”

Si sat up and quite deliberately placed a shaking finger on Bes’s prosthesis, lightly touching the pressure sensors. He caught Bes’s eye, then moved his hand to tap him on the thigh, through his pants. “Feel the difference?”

“Yes!” Bes yelped, part of him stunned as he realized what had always been missing, another part of him amazed that Si didn’t seem fazed by touching his prosthetic. He wondered if Si had been waiting for permission. “You’re right, it’s not there.”

“It’s probably hard to keep yourself balanced and steady when the ground doesn’t feel real.”

“It doesn’t! Force, it doesn’t! I never realized.” He looked at Si, incredulous. “How did you know?”

Si shrugged. “I didn’t. I just suspected.” He glanced at Wallace who was giggling again. “You’ve been here for eight years, Bes. We go to PT together. You walk as if you have nerve damage, as if you’re not getting the right sensory inputs when you walk, and it doesn’t seem to affect you when you sit. That’s not uncommon in amputees, but they usually learn to compensate over time even if they always have a deficit and prosthetics can often be adapted to help process and transmit the missing inputs. Clearly something else was missing. Also, I’ve been, hmm, stimulating you in certain areas and I try not to touch damaged nerves or nerves that ran to your feet. I _know_ that can be painful, but nothing I’ve touched feels particularly dysfunctional. If the general nerve inputs are okay, it must be a different input.”

Bes couldn’t deny that he could feel Si’s touch just fine. “You have an amazing mind, Si.”

“Heh,” Si sounded a bit embarrassed. “It’s not hyperspace calculations, just an outside perspective.”

Wallace giggled again. Bes was starting to wonder what was so funny.

“You should ask about it the next time you have a healer’s appointment. You never know when the Kiffar system will politically blow up again.”

“I will.”

“I’m sorry touched your shin without permission.”

Bes glanced down at his prosthetic. He had never really thought of it as _his_ shin, _his_ foot, _his_ calf, _his_ knee. It was something he had seen as outside himself, rather than part of an integrated whole. “It’s okay. You were making a very good point. And it didn’t hurt.” It had never occurred to him that Si was cautious about touching him because _he_ might have nerve issues, but it made sense, especially with his history of other amputee lovers. “I can, um, show you later what hurts so you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Thank you, Bes. I want you to be comfortable when we’re together.”

Wallace giggled again.

Si rolled his eyes. “He’s not laughing at you.”

Bes was starting to have his suspicions. He looked around, supplementing his vision with his Force sense. The three of them were alone.

“ _You’re_ watching Wallace?” Bes asked, surprised.

“Yes. The Force currents I was monitoring all day have mostly resolved well, but they’ve left Wallace—”

Wallace burst out into heart laughter this time.

“Unsettled.” He sighed at their amused friend. “I took him out here so he could get it out of his system without waking anyone up and so no more of the clergy had to be traumatized.”

“You don’t usually look after Wallace.”

“Actually, I don’t tend to care for Wallace if there are people around. I can’t hold his hand to guide him like you do. The shaking makes him jittery, especially if he keeps forgetting I’m the person holding his hand. I use Force taps and nudges to prompt or distract him, but that’s hard if other people are in the way.”

“I almost always hold his hand or talk to him. I can’t chase him down if he runs off.’

“I can chase him down if I have to,” Si admitted. “That’s why I keep my stamina up on the treadmill. If he gets too far too fast levitation is also an option. At the very least it distracts him, so he forgets what he wanted to do. But if other people are in the way, I can’t get a clear path to him or I may knock into someone else, so I usually only take charge of him at night.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize.”

Si shrugged. “You’re days shift. I’m night shift. You help Wallace socialize. I help keep him from disturbing others. But you definitely take care of Wallace more than I do.”

Wallace giggled again, not looking at either of them, but not worried or bothered, seemingly at peace with himself and the Force.

“He seems happy here with you.”

“Well,” Si seemed a bit surprised. “I try to set the mood for calm and secure. I _think_ he feels safe with me.”

Wallace cocked his head as if listening to something, then giggled again.

“Did you tell him jokes or something?” Bes asked, wondering if Wallace was trying to keep a particularly good punchline in his mind.

“No,” Si chuckled. “He’s just reading the Force currents and getting amused. If he were still with us in the present he’d get a chuckle or two and move on, but he keeps forgetting that he’s already figured it out and each time he does he’s amused all over again.”

Wallace giggled again, clearly delighted.

“How long is this going to last?” Bes asked.

“The repercussions of today have a very far reach,” Si explained. Bes was reminded of Denna predicting much the same thing.

“But the most obvious currents should dissipate by morning, at least this far from the event.”

“The event?” Bes asked. “What happened?”

“An unrealized potential came to fruition. Master was rather blindsided by it, which is why I was monitoring it, in case he needed an emotional kick in the pants. Which he _did_. Fortunately, he didn’t let his stubbornness get in the way and the best path was taken.”

Wallace giggled again. 

“It’s just particularly delightful to Wallace as well.”

“Right.” Bes relaxed into his chair. “Good to hear.”

“Did you want to talk about what was bothering you enough to drive you around the short path seven times?” Si asked after a few moments.

“Oh.” Bes looked up at the lights from the aircars winking at the through the clear ceiling. There was far too much light pollution to see the stars, even from the Core. “Um, it was a couple different things, actually.”

Wallace giggled again.  
  
“I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

Both Bes _and_ Wallace snorted at that. Bes was pleased that Wallace seemed to understand Si was there to take care of him.

“I was trying to solve a logistical problem.”

“So you said,” Si shifted slightly. “Did you come up with a solution?”

“Other than resolving to ask for help, no,” Bes sighed. “Which may bring a solution anyway.”

“It may have worked for Brother Opsen.”

“Hmm?” Bes turned his head to look at Si.

Wallace giggled again.

“After you left dinner, he was still fussing about the large bus being out of service. I advised him the easiest course of action would be to obtain parking below the commerce or dining level for a second small bus.”

“Is that safe?” Bes asked.

Si shrugged. “It’s safe enough for your Style Padawan and his friends to go clubbing, just as it was when you, me and Wallace were young. The best dance clubs are still in the A&T.”

“But how would we pay for parking there?” Bes asked.

“It’s not as expensive as Ospen thinks. Padawan Granby was quite informative about not only relatively safe garages, but pricing. The _Electric Twilek_ is still in the same block as Aleut’s, if a few levels down. Granby was able to recommend a garage close to the public lifts that changes half the price Ospen was expecting, and daytime rates might even be lower.”

“You asked _Padawan Granby_?” Bes asked, stunned.

“Yes. Why not? He’s the only person I know who currently visits below the surface levels of the A&T.” He frowned. “I supposed I _could_ have just called Aleut’s, but everyone I used to know short of Fredo is probably retired.”

Wallace chuckled a bit more heartily this time. Bes was still trying to wrap his mind around Si calling teenaged padawans for advice.

“Well, it’s good that it costs less than what Ospen thought, but that still doesn’t mean he has the funds. Even affordable parking in the A&T is going to blow our budget.” Bes was desperately trying to manage his expectations after his frustrating day.

“Hmm, yes, well,” Si clasped his hands over his flat stomach and gazed up at the dark sky above. “A solution has presented itself.”

Bes stared at him, impatient. “What is it?”

Si chuckled to himself, deep and gravelly. If Bes couldn’t feel Si’s brightness in the Force, he would have described it as Sithly.

“Cin owes me money.”

Bes stared at him, incredulous, barely remembering to lower his voice so he wouldn’t upset Wallace. “Cin Drallig owes you money?”

“He lost a bet,” Si explained, then turned to Wallace who was giving him the stink eye. “Don’t worry, Wallace. He didn’t bet more than he can afford to lose.” 

“You shouldn’t take advantage of him,” Wallace scolded.

“He’s a master now, Wallace. And we were betting on the event.”

“Oh, that’s okay then.” He cocked his head, listening to the Force again, then burst out laughing again. “Oh, Cin, don’t be silly!” He laughed harder.

“You won a bet with Cin and it’s enough to pay for fuel and parking on a second van?” Bes asked, still not quite able to believe it.

“Yes,” Si replied as if this were business as usual. “There might even be enough to buy you a drink from the bar. I’m not sure. Padawan Granby is still too young to drink so I didn’t ask him about current prices for that.”

“Do I want to know what you and Cin were betting on?” Bes asked at last.

“You do not.” A sly smile was playing at Si’s lips. “But it’s all to the good.”

“ _Master_ Cin should be wise enough not to bet against Master Si,” Wallace commented, but he didn’t sound very concerned, as if he trusted that it was a fair bet between friends.

“It was a reasonable bet, Wallace,” Si assured him. “If I lost, he would let me pay him in scrip so he could use it on teaching materials.”

“Cin’s a good boy,” Wallace asserted.

“He is,” Si agreed.

“He needs to learn what is a good bet and what isn’t.”

“He’s quite clever and calculates odds well,” Si reassured him. “Cin is very careful. It’s Gi-Ho who is always losing his shirt.”

Wallace snorted. “Gi-Ho shouldn’t bet against Cin.”

“Gi-Ho shouldn’t bet against Urban Scout Girls. They do have a casino merit badge.”

All three of them had a good chuckle. Wallace grew quiet and stared off into the darkness, ‘noticing’ the Force currents again. After a few moments, he giggled again. Bes tried not to laugh with him.

“So what else was bothering you? Assuming the thwarted travel plans were your logistical problem.”

“It was,” Bes conceded. Sitting here with Si now, his earlier anxieties, seemed even more silly. Si might put Yoda first, but when he could give Bes his attention, he clearly did. “I had a few personal issues to work out. Sorting out thoughts and plans and expectations and decisions to make.”

“Did you come to a decision then?”

Bes smiled to himself. “Yes.”

Si breathed slowly through his nose. “Are you going to ask me then?”

 _Oh_. That was rather direct.

“To Aleut’s?”

“You don’t have to,” Si assured him.

“Ospen told you?” He hadn’t expected Brother Ospen to invite Si on his own when the trip was still so up in the air, but perhaps the monk had been enlisting Si’s help?

“ _You_ told me. You and Denna were talking about it at lunch.”

Bes stared at him, open-mouthed. “I didn’t think you had heard,” he admitted.

Si raised a thick eyebrow. “I wasn’t speaking. I was still paying attention.”

“Oh.” Not all of the warmth Bes felt was from embarrassment.

“So what have you decided?”

“About Aleut’s?”

“Assuming I can shake down Cin early enough to reserve the second bus of course.”

Wallace giggled again.

“I, . . . I have.” In truth, Bes had been waffling, not at all certain if Si would be open to the idea, but now he felt warm, calm. Comfortable. Even if he said no, it would not be a rejection of him.

Si looked at him, his face neutral.

“Just ask him already, Bes!” Wallace groused.

By the time Bes looked at him, he was cocking his head, distracted by the Force currents again.

Si snorted. “No pressure.”

Bes laughed, wiping his eyes. “Alright.” He tried not to think about how long it had been since he had asked anyone out, then realized it had probably been even longer since anyone had asked Si out. “Jedi Master Simet Silvanus, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on the group trip to _Aleut’s Fine Art Gallery and Bookstore_?”

Si took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I want to,” he said at last

“But you’re afraid?” Bes asked quietly. Wallace stifled his giggle.

“I am. But I should face my fears since I seem to have forgotten to die.”

“You really should, Simet,” Wallace agreed, rolling his eyes. “Even _I_ have a better memory than _that_.”

Si chuckled. “I want to,” he repeated after he had stopped laughing. “But I think . . . I think I need to practice first.”

“Practice,” Bes stared into the darkness, thinking it over. “You mean, you want to take shorter trips before going to Aleut’s?”

“Yes,” Si released some anxiety into the Force.

Wallace turned to face him, looking supportive. “Don’t worry, Simet. You can do . . . whatever the hell it is.”

“Thank you, Wallace.” Si’s tone was sincere. Bes wondered if they often gave each other pep talks.

“What do you want to do for practice?” Bes asked. “We already go to the Library and the saber clinics. Did you want to go outside the Temple or go somewhere inside the Temple?”

“Do they still serve food at the previews?”

“They do.” Art openings tended to have appetizers and a bar, but the preview usually had a light lunch, as many of the attendees came from all over Coruscant. “How did you know?” He had never seen Si attend _any_ of their outings, much less the art previews.

“I used to be invited as an exhibiting artist.” Si stared up at the sky. “A lifetime ago.”

“Right.” Bes followed his gaze. No wonder he was nervous. Bes always felt a bit of dread when he ran into people he had not seen since before his injury. How must Si feel, meeting people who knew about the art he could no longer create? And he had asked about the food. Since the vigil for Knight Kenobi, he had become more aware of Si’s anxieties and limitations with food.

“Did you want to have a practice lunch?”

“Yes,” Si nodded. “If we could.” He seemed relieved by the idea. “In the Temple.”

“Okay.” Bes kept his tone cautious. “Do you think you can show me how to help you so you can eat more easily.”

Si took another deep breath and let it out. “Yes. If you think that won’t spoil the mood.”

Bes reached out in the dark until Si shakily took his hand. He gave his lover’s hand a gentle squeeze of support, sending his respect and understanding, knowing what it was like to feel helpless when he tried to do things able-bodied people took for granted. When he caught Si’s eye, he grinned.

“Yes, Si, that’s really going to spoil the mood if I have to hand-feed my lover in front of everyone. Why they might even find out how sexy I think you are. Maybe I’ll offer the sweetest morsels from my lips. Good thing you’re still so flexible.”

Si’s stunned silence was interrupted by Wallace howling with laughter.

“This time he’s laughing at you,” Si confirmed. After a moment he started to chuckle along. “I don’t think you’ll have to go quite that far,” he eventually continued. “You might have to cut my food for me, depending on what it is.”

Bes had been paying attention to how the staff served Si his meals so he would know what Si could and could not eat. “I think I can handle that.”

“Thank you,” Si looked back up at the sky. “Maybe we could try eating at one of the cafés? Or the commissary?” He couldn’t quite keep his voice steady, but he wanted to try. And as one of Yoda’s padawans that meant he had to do.

“We can.” Bes stroked Si’s shaking fingers between his own. “I’d really like that.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“It’s okay, Si. I know it’s hard.”

“I’m sorry I can’t make promises.”

Wallace was also staring at the sky. “Quit being such a worry-wart, Simet. It’s going to be fine.”

Bes snorted.

“I’d believe him more if he had any clue what he was talking about.”

“I don’t need to remember,” Wallace scoffed. “The Force told me it will be fine.”

“A Jedi isn’t smug, Wallace.”

“A Jedi isn’t a stick in the mud, _Simet_.”

Bes chuckled, no longer used to the feisty side of Wallace that Si could apparently still draw out.

“It’s a good thing Bes loves you, Simet.” Wallace sat up and turned to catch Bes’s eye. “You really want to put up with him for the next twenty years?”

Bes started to laugh before he realized what Wallace had said.

Si rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry Bes, I’m quite sure I’ll be dead before _that_.”

In twenty years, Si would be 125.

Bes stared at Wallace, afraid to hear what he’d say next.

“No you won’t,” Wallace sighed. “You’re too grouchy to die.”

“Maybe I’ll haunt you instead of dissipating my consciousness into the Force.” Si covered a yawn. “Or come back as an obnoxious initiate to torment Master.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Wallace snorted.

Bes held his breath, waiting for Wallace to say more, to say how Si would die five years later than he had before, but he only cocked his head again and stared into the shadows, once more fascinated by the Force currents.

Si rolled his eyes, taking Wallace’s comments as banter rather than prophecy. Bes closed his eyes and released his breath. He should probably tell Yoda, whenever whatever this was blew over.

Wallace giggled again.

“Is Master Yoda going to be alright?” Bes asked.

Wallace’s giggles erupted into loud guffaws.

Si covered his eyes, snorting more at Wallace than anything else. “Yes, he’ll be fine now.” Wallace laughed harder and Si struggled a moment not to join him.

“I wouldn’t comm him before noon, however.”

Wallace was wiping away tears.

Si regained his composure after one more snort of laughter. “But yes, as I said, the better path was taken and it’s all to the good.”

Bes sighed. That sounded like good news at least. “Good. Now that this . . . stuff is over, maybe he can get to the bottom of whatever is bothering Knight Kenobi.”

Si grew very still. After a moment, Wallace began laughing heartily, wiping his eyes, a hand on his stomach.

Si shook his head at Wallace. “I think that should be completely resolved soon if it hasn’t been already.”

Wallace was still laughing, eyes dancing merrily.

“Really?” Bes sounded relieved. “Quinlan was very worried about him this morning.”

“I’m not surprised,” Si nodded. “He has been quite distressed.”

“Quinlan still didn’t know what it was all about, but you were right, he’s very concerned about disappointing Master Yoda.”

Wallace began to snigger.

“Not like _that_ , Wallace.”

“Oh,” Wallace stopped laughing abruptly. “Oh, that’s terrible.” He sounded near tears.

“I think it will be fine now,” Si assured him.

Wallace sighed mournfully.

Bes shook his head. It had been years since he’d seen Wallace this emotionally volatile.

Wallace cocked his head and looked into the shadows, making a vaguely interested noise.

Bes was starting to wonder if Wallace knew more than he did. “Here’s hoping. Quinlan and Kressa are very worried about him.”

“He’s returning to balance, just like Master.”

“And you.”

Si raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t unbalanced, I was pre-occupied. It’s a lot of work to raise a stubborn, octo-centenarian lizard these days.”

“They don’t raise themselves?” Bes asked, amused.

“Hell no. They barely bother to buy groceries.”

Bes chuckled. He recalled worrying after his own master in her later years. “Edro did say Kenobi fussed over him. Maybe he can help look after him.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” Si seemed very pleased and the slightest bit relieved.

“Of course he’ll look after him,” Wallace agreed. “Even after he joins the Force.”

Both Si _and_ Bes turned to stare at him.

“Oh, not soon,” Wallace clarified as he turned back to the shadows. “That would really suck.”

“Indeed,” Si agreed.

Bes settled in his chaise, very glad things were working out.

“We’ll all be dead then,” Wallace explained.

“Good.” Simet closed his eyes, tired, but still alert. “That’s the natural order of things.”

Bes sighed. Wallace stared at the shadows and cocked his head. Si sipped his tea. Bes wondered when Wallace would calm down enough to go to bed.

Wallace giggled again.

Bes sat up and opened his mouth to speak.

“You really might not want to know,” Si advised. “Though you’ll probably find out anyway.”

“Wallace?” Bes tried not to sound neither exasperated, nor exceedingly curious. “What _are_ you laughing at?”

Wallace paused. “I don’t know.” He pressed his side gently, slightly sore. “How long have I been laughing for?”

“Hours,” Si told him.

“Oh.”

“You missed the window,” Si advised Bes.

Bes rolled his eyes. Si clasped his hand, sending reassurance. Wallace cocked his head. Bes closed his eyes, resting them, knowing he shouldn’t fall asleep.

Wallace giggled again.

“Wallace,” Si let go of Bes’s hand to stretch. “Tell Bes why you’re laughing.”

Wallace’s giggles sounded rather delighted. “Yoda fucked the Duck.”

Bes’s eyes flew open. “ _What_?”

Wallace continued to giggle, tickled by the Force currents still emanating from the Master’s Tower. “Master Yoda fucked the Duckling. But he’s a full grown duck, right Si?”

“Yes, he’s full grown, Wallace.”

“Mm, they have a good bond. Very beautiful.”

“It’s coming along nicely,” Si agreed.

“ _What_?” Bes sat up and stared at Si and Wallace in turn. “I’m sorry, but _what_?!”

Si gave him a patient look. “Bes, I told you Kenobi was in love and was having trouble dealing with it.”

“You said he was afraid of disappointing Yoda.” Bes sounded bewildered.

“He was,” Si confirmed. “He thought Master would be offended by his feelings.”

Wallace shook his head. “Silly Duckling.”

“Very silly,” Si agreed.

“So Master Yoda . . . fucked him?” Bes asked, not quite able to wrap his mind around this.

“Probably not,” Si conceded. “Master doesn’t tend to jump right to anal sex with a new lover.”

“What?” Bes was dimly aware that he was really starting to sound moronic.

“They clearly had _some_ kind of sexual encounter. My guess would be oral if Master could get Kenobi comfortable enough. Force knows Master has wanted him for a while now.”

Wallace cocked his head and stared off into the shadows.

“Master Yoda and Knight Kenobi had sex together because they wanted to?” Bes finally seemed to grasp the concept.

“Oh!” Wallace said brightly. “That’s _it_ , Bes! I see it!” He began to giggle in delight. “It’s beautiful!”

“It’s the brighter path,” Si explained quietly. “A bright light in a clouded future.”

“So this is a good thing?” Bes asked.

“Very good,” Si confirmed.

“Just beautiful,” Wallace sighed. “Such bright Light.”

“Yes.” Si sounded very much at peace.

“So much more joy,” Wallace seemed awed. “So much.”

“Yes.”

Bes really couldn’t see this himself. “Because Master Yoda had sex with Knight Kenobi?”

Si snorted. “I suspect their potential long-term companionship and support is the greater source of joy and light, but the orgasms certainly didn’t hurt.”

“Oh,” Bes replied faintly. “And we should be happy about this?”

“Yes.” SI sipped his tea. “Knight Kenobi has finally found someone to trust with his heart after the Jackass tried to obliterate it, and Master finally has true romantic love in his life. He hasn’t had that since Master Dedrin joined the Force.”

Bes wasn’t used to this many shocking revelations outside a high-stakes, cutthroat cocktail party (and the Force used to drop him hints, _damnit_!)

“Master Yoda and _Master Dedrin_ were a couple?”

“Yes,” Si snorted. “For many years.”

“They were sexual partners?”

“Yes. For _decades_.”

“Did Moosie know?”

Wallace laughed heartily, apparently finding this question particularly funny.

“Moosie figured it out before Dedrin did. Either that or he saw it in the Force. Dedrin had fussed for weeks about how he could possibly explain it when Moosie asked if he should be giving them some privacy on their date night.”

Bes blinked. “That’s surprisingly insightful for Moosie.”

“He didn’t mind sharing his master’s affections, he just didn’t want to hear sex noises.” Si shrugged. “Master ordered a better mattress for the padawan room and Moosie was spared.”

Bes frowned as he thought back over what he remembered of their relationship. He had known the Grandmaster and the former Weaponsmith Master were close friends, but he had never realized they were intimate. Of course he had also thought Yoda was celibate, so it wasn’t _that_ surprising he had never noticed.

“Was Dedrin worried about offending Master Yoda too?” Bes asked.

Wallace snorted.

Si shook his head. “ _Force,_ yes. Not nearly as much as Kenobi but there was a shocking amount of anxiety considering he was a damn master and nearly sixty at the time.” Si gave Bes a knowing look. “As I said, it is better for all involved if they figure out on their own and I don’t have to stick my big nose in it.”

Bes snorted, despite himself.

“Dedrin needed confirmation that his feelings weren’t offensive.” Si rolled his eyes. “Master was raised by humans. He imprinted on humans. He’s had human padawans. He enjoys fucking humans. He has standards, but he can handle it when humans like him enough to lust for his body and mind.” He gave Bes a sharp look. “You already know Master is one of _my_ lovers. Is it really that shocking?”

Bes thought for a moment. “Dedrin, no. Kenobi, yes.”

Wallace giggled again.

“He’s just so . . . young. And . . . it’s _Yoda_.”

“He’s an old soul. This was a long time coming.”

Si peered into the dim behind Bes. The Kiffar turned to see a figure coming toward them from the dorms.

“Good morning, Sister Drish.” Bes glanced at the time on his comm, stunned at how far into the morning they were already.

Si held up a hand, warning her off. “Beware, Sister. He’s taking longer to catch on, but Wallace is still making the same startling revelation every two minutes or so.”

“So I heard,” the nun replied. “Something about Grandmaster Yoda taking a new lover?”

“Yes.”

Drish shrugged. “He’s the Grandmaster, not the High Abbott.”

“Brother Trose was rather traumatized when I arrived,” Si explained.

“Brother Trose is the drama queen of the rest home.”

Wallace giggled again.

“He is,” Si agreed. Bes snorted.

Drish gave Wallace an unimpressed look. “Master Clearing, who did Master Yoda seduce last night?”

Wallace giggled. “Yoda made love with the Duck.”

“Oh,” Drish sounded stunned, but not scandalized. “Well, I should have seen _that_ coming.”

“Why?” Bes asked as Si looked at her curiously. “I didn’t.”

Drish laughed, wiping her eye with the corner of her apron. “Because Grandmaster Yoda made friends with him the day I brought him to the Temple as an infant.”

“Did he?” Si asked. “How utterly unsurprising.”

“You remember bringing Knight Kenobi to the Temple when he was a baby?” Bes asked.

“I brought a lot of infants to the Temple,” she conceded. “But the scandalous royal bastards who call out to Yoda in the Force are hard to forget.” She shrugged. “I always thought he would end up as a monk, but Yoda’s lover makes sense too.”

“A _monk_?” Si chuckled. “Not this time.”

“Yoda said that too back then.” She turned to Wallace. “Master Clearing, do you want to try to go to sleep or do you want to stay here?”

Wallace looked very confused. “Simet, I can’t see what happened. There’s so much Light but I can’t see why.”

“The Force currents are fading, but the Light will continue, Wallace.”

“It’s really beautiful, Simet.” Wallace sounded so disappointed that he couldn’t understand more.

“It will still bring you good dreams, Wallace. Go on now with Sister Drish. It’s time for all the creaky old masters to go to bed.”

“Okay.” Wallace got up and walked over to the nun while Si helped Bes get up. “Sister, did Cin get in okay? I can’t remember if he said goodnight.”

“Oh my, yes, Master Clearing. He’s been asleep for hours while you’ve been gabbing with the boys.”

Wallace gallantly took her arm and let her lead him back toward his room. “He’s such a good padawan, Sister. I never tell him that.”

“He’s a very good Jedi and a credit to your teaching, Master Clearing.”

“Thank you,” Wallace gave her a bright smile. “He’s so dedicated to his studies.” His voice faded as they walked further.

“Come on, Bes. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Did you want, um, company?” Bes asked.

“Only if you don’t mind me falling asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow,” Si grumbled.

Bes smiled softly. “Sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are getting some reaction to those mysterious Force currents. (Si and Wallace are particularly sensitive, this was not broadcast to the entire Temple). Also Wallace seems to have become aware of some changes, even if he can't remember that things are different. It was also fun to explore Si and Wallace's friendship. Any thoughts?


	28. Part XXVIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Rare Pair wakes up to face the morning after, there are curious visitors, messages are delivered, breakfast is served with a little help from friends, and Vygor has a pleasantly surprising appointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoted song lyrics are from another Passenger song, "Heart's on Fire." It seemed nice to have the same artist for the first and last chapter and when I was reviewing his songs, this one fit perfectly. The linked video is a version of Passenger and Ed Sheeran singing the song together (and it's not the folk song Ed Sheeran is singing in the first minute). 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EreZNkWzBAw
> 
> So, this is our last chapter, to be followed by the epilogue (which I'm still working on) to help tie up the last of the strings. I hope everyone has been enjoyed the journey, thank you so much for taking it with me.
> 
> **WARNING:** co-sleeping, polyamory, and general anxiety. Some kissing, but not actually by our Rare Pair.

_Well I don’t know where and I don’t know when,_

_But I know we’ll be lovers again._

_I’ll see you someday before the end._

_I don’t know where and I don’t know when . . ._

_But, oh, darling, my heart’s on fire,_

_Oh, darling my heart’s on fire,_

_Oh, darling my heart’s on fire,_

_For you._

\--Michael David Rosenberg, _Heart’s On Fire_

Awareness began to creep in as the simulated sunrise slowly began to light up the room. He was warm, relaxed, and had the sneaking suspicion he had slept in the guest room again.

Movement behind him brought him suddenly and fully awake with the realization that he was not alone. His eyes snapped open to find he was laying under a familiar blanket and a well-muscled arm was draped over him, just barely touching him through the bantha wool. He breathed in through his nose and recognized the smell of his lover, comforting but new notes from their lovemaking had brought new complexity to the scent.

“Mmm.” Pleased by this development, he pressed back against his lover, feeling soft breath stir his hair, the rise and fall of his lover’s chest against his back, strong thighs below his legs, heat and calm and love wrapping around his body and mind, in their bond, in his lover’s touch.

Obi-Wan had rolled to his side at some point during the night and had curled around Yoda into a loose fetal position, the tiny master tucked against his chest. He held him lightly, Yoda could move without difficulty, but the posture felt both protective and protected, very much in harmony with the idea that they would take care of each other. It reminded Yoda of how Obi-Wan had slept that night not so long ago when he was suffering the loss of his recently snapped training bond. The young man had similarly huddled up then, the frozen ache in his mind chilling his body, but had turned away from him and the world, facing the wall. After he had finally been soothed to sleep, he had rolled over, desperate for contact in his unconscious state. Yoda had lay down next to him and he woke up to find Obi-Wan spooning him in his sleep, desperately clutching at the hem of his robe to keep himself grounded.

Yoda found he much preferred the warm arm holding him close.

Another warm breath tickled at his head as his sparse hair shifted in the moving air. Yoda squirmed around so he could see his lover’s face.

“There you are, Beautiful,” he whispered as Obi-Wan’s face came into view, still deeply asleep. His distress had left him rundown and fatigued, but now that his fear had let him, his body and mind had demanded sleep, and he was sleeping hard. Yoda reached up to stroke his cheek, feeling for their bond. He was pleased to find their pre-existing bond had stabilized while they had slept, refining and maturing after their shared stimulation. He then checked the bond port, keeping distant, not wanting to cause pain. The numbness was starting to fade, and yes, it would be tender for a while, but it was healing, quite well in fact. It was growing back, very intent on carrying out its purpose, no matter how many times Obi-Wan had tried to stop it. Already it was taking shape again, tendrils and fronds beginning to emerge from the tattered stump. It was determined to complete its mission. Yoda was very much looking forward to it.

A bright light entered the room, turning Obi-Wan’s hair to brilliant red-gold, kissing his pale skin, his delicate eyelashes shining, the light so intense his veins could be seen, his soft stubble glowing on his cheeks. He was shining in this strong light, all the more strange in that there wasn’t a window in this room, and the false dawn was never this bright. Slowly, sensing no danger but still cautious, Yoda turned back to see what was shining so brightly behind him.

It wasn’t a what, but a who.

A man in Jedi robes was sitting in the lotus position at the edge of the mat, facing away from him. The brilliant light was coming from his body, his robe glowing with Light as he lowered his hood and looked over his shoulder at the pair of them.

Yoda felt his heart skip a beat.

“Elliot?”

The man smiled lovingly at him as he turned toward him. His whole body glowed, his short, curly gray hair becoming a silver halo, his eyes clear and his face so much healthier than the last time he had seen it. He shifted around fully to face him, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. He was in full formal dress, perfectly pressed, but his feet were bare.

“Good morning, Dear Heart,” he reached out to stroke Yoda’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to intrude.”

Yoda was about to assure him that he would never be an intrusion when Obi-Wan shifted in his sleep and he suddenly realized how awkward this could get. Elliot only laughed, his joy ringing through the Force like a bell. “Don’t you fuss about it. As I said, I wasn’t trying to intrude, just checking up on both of you.”

Yoda frowned, puzzled. “Both?”

Elliot stopped stroking Yoda’s cheek to gently run his fingers over Obi-Wan’s hand. Obi-Wan sighed softly but did not wake, even when his hand curled around Elliot’s.

“Yes, both of you.” He looked Yoda in the eye, his expression amused. “I did tell you to look out for him, several times.”

“You did,” Yoda agreed, not sure where Elliot was going with this.

Elliot chuckled gently. “You _do_ know that when I told you to look out for him, I meant you should find him a master, not that you should find me a metamour.”

“Yes,” Yoda sounded slightly embarrassed.

Elliot frowned, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Does he count as a metamour if I’m dead?”

“Yes,” Yoda answered with great conviction.

Elliot smiled back at him. “Alright.” He stroked Yoda’s face again. “I didn’t want you to wait so long, Dear Heart, but I suppose you just had to wait for him to grow up again.”

“Met him before I _have_ ,” Yoda’s eyes widened. “Know this you do?”

“Yes.” Elliot gave him a sad smile. “You have before. Many times. I’ve known him too. These things are easier to see from here.” He chuckled again. “I don’t know if you’ve ever bedded him before, though.”

“Break a cleric’s vows I would not.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You respect it too much, even if you didn’t choose it for yourself.”

“A knight he is now.”

“Yes.” Elliot seemed to glow more, as if he were proud of Obi-Wan and it was shining out from him. “He had to work so hard, but I knew he could do it again.” His face grew serious. “You’ll need him to face the Darkness to come.”

“Know this I do.”

“You don’t, Dear Heart. You cannot fathom now what might come to be. But you know how strong he has been to get where he is. You know how pure his Light is. You’re going to need it. Do not waste these gifts.”

Yoda was quiet for a moment. He had caught a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s full power, his potential, his Light, both on Naboo and now in his bed. He had seen that his precious love was a far older soul than he had realized. Why would the Force send him this Light as a warrior and not as a monk?

What did the Force send him here to do?

“Tell me you cannot,” Yoda sighed. “Just a beautiful dream you are.”

“Perhaps I’m a dream,” Elliot stroked his ear. “Perhaps I’m a particularly pleasant way for the Force to speak to you. Or maybe I am still myself, somewhere in the Force and my love for you both and your love for each other was enough to draw us together in this moment.” He sighed. “You are correct, that I can’t tell you the future. Even now, when I have joined the Force, I cannot see what has not happened yet, only possibilities.”

Yoda patted at Obi-Wan’s arm. “See _this_ you did not?”

“No,” Elliot laughed. “He was a _child_ when I died. Simet has always been better at picking out relationship potentials than I was. I could see you would be important to each other. I could see I could trust him to care for you. I knew I could trust you to take care of him. I knew your loving heart would find love again in many forms. But this joy, no, this I did not foresee.”

“Miss you I still do,” Yoda admitted. “Let you go I did, but your loss I still feel.”

“I miss the brush of your mind,” Elliot stroked a hand over his head. “I miss the touch of your hand.” He looked thoughtful. “I miss the simple things about being alive. I miss reaching for the Force, the challenge of grasping it, or not quite being one with it, but the attempt. There is a _try_ , you know, and the _do_ is very different.”

“Love you I still do. So much.”

“I should hope so,” Elliot leaned down and kissed him on the forehead, the touch lighter, softer than it had been in life, but still warm in the Force. “I still love you too, but our time is in the past, and a new future awaits you. Yes, this is a brighter path for our dear friend, but there is a brighter path possible for you too.”

“Darkness ahead for me there is?” Yoda looked up at him, puzzled. “See this I cannot.”

“Hmm, you didn’t see me coming either. Or him. Darkness is coming for all of us. It always is, but it’s getting stronger and has been for a long time.” He stroked a hand over Obi-Wan’s arm. “This one can’t see it, it’s been rising slowly since before he’s been born, but his soul knows. Listen to it, listen to what he cannot hear.”

“More he sees than his mind can understand.”

“Yes,” Elliot agreed. “And not for the first time.”

“No lovers he had to hear. Listen to him Qui-Gon Jinn would not.”

Elliot rolled his eyes as if this did not surprise him in the least. “You understand that the Force speaks quietly sometimes, but it is rarely silent. We are the ones who choose to deafen ourselves rather than the Force abandoning us. Listen to the quiet voices when the loud ones cannot hear. Wallace isn’t the only one who can see past the smoke and shadows sometimes.”

“Listen I will.” He could feel the importance, the rightness of the message.

Eliot seemed to be slowly growing brighter, as if the burning sun inside him was getting bigger, stronger, as if soon his skin would not be able to hold it all in. “I’m sorry, Dear Heart, I have to go, but I will return, even if you don’t see me.”

“Goodbye, my Bright Star,” Yoda reached for him. “Feel you sometimes I still do.”

“Goodbye, Dear Heart. I don’t go far when I leave you, even though we only speak in dreams.” He leaned over and kissed Yoda on the cheek, eyes shining. Yoda had the distinct impression Elliot would have kissed him on the lips as he usually did in dreams if Obi-wan hadn’t been there or if their relationship had been more established. Elliot’s love felt the same in his mind, but there was a deference now, a care to not impede this new love affair.

To Yoda’s surprise, Elliot then leaned over him to kiss Obi-Wan gently on the temple. “Goodbye, Sweet Boy. I’m sorry I didn’t live to see you grow up into the brilliant knight you are. May the Force be with you in the challenges to come.”

Yoda raised his eyebrows at the endearment. ‘Sweet Boy’ or ‘Sweet Girl’ was what Elliot had always called his padawans, depending on gender. He had been very interested in Obi-Wan’s training, but Yoda had not realized before that Elliot had wanted to take Obi-Wan has an apprentice. He looked back at his new lover, carefully observing him in the Force and was very surprised to see that an old bond scar, deep within his mind had lit up at Elliot’s touch. The scar was not from his first training bond with Qui-Gon Jinn as he had always suspected but had been a training bond with Elliot that had gently broken when the master had joined the Force.

Curiously, Obi-Wan had never mentioned it, though as a child he would have had several bonds with his instructors and death was a natural reason for a bond to close rather than develop fully.

Yoda sighed. “A good master to him you would have been.”

“You would have been too.” Elliot was getting harder to see, his Light getting too bright to look at directly. “Take care of each other, my Loves. We’ll see each other again if it’s the will of the Force.”

“Goodbye, my Brilliant Star,” Yoda felt tears in his eyes begin to fall as he shut them against the brightness. “May the Force be with you, Beloved.”

The light grew brighter and brighter behind his eyes and then so slowly began to fade. By the time he opened his eyes, he was no longer sure how much time had passed, if he had fallen asleep at some point, if it had been a vision, a dream, or a visitation. Reincarnation was something he knew existed, but a visit from a lost love was too desirable for him to trust was not something his own mind had created rather than the Force.

He was still so focused on his own thoughts that it took him several minutes to notice he was alone.

He sat up immediately, looking around for his missing lover, absurdly worried that his dream of Elliot had somehow chased Obi-Wan away. Had he been talking in his sleep? Had Obi-Wan been jealous, intimidated or hurt? He was not in the room, though traces of him were still strong and fresh. He couldn’t have gone far. Yoda moved to get up, concerned his lover had panicked in the harsh light of morning, or that the bond port was causing him pain, but before he could untangle himself from the blanket he had apparently been swaddled in, there was a flushing sound from the refresher.

No, not far at all.

Relieved, Yoda took stock of the room. Obi-Wan’s robe and boots were still here. He flopped back down on the mat, trying not to laugh at himself as Obi-Wan washed his hands and turned off the water. He was the one being silly now. He released his anxiety into the Force and settled down, feeling the peace and love saturating the bedding for a few minutes more before he had to face the day.

After a moment, Obi-Wan crept back into the room, clearly assuming Yoda was still asleep. His mind was humming with indecision, at a complete loss as to what was the proper etiquette for the morning after. Should he leave as quietly as possible? Should he wash the dishes first? Should he check the hallways and make sure he wasn’t seen leaving? Should he clean up the bedding? Probably not if Master Yoda was still asleep in it. Maybe he should climb down the outside of the Tower on the balconies to make sure he wasn’t seen? Or would that be picked up by security cameras? Just as Master Yoda was deciding to ask him to make some tea before he worked himself into a panic, Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked . . . disheveled. Not unhappy, but obviously and utterly mussed. And he suspected he smelled and not quite like a gym. He felt his anxiety rise, wanting nothing more than to crawl back onto the mat and wrap himself around Yoda just as he had been when he had woken up and wait for the master to tell him what he was supposed to do.

Instead of indulging his turbulent emotions, Obi-Wan reminded himself he was a Jedi, sat down and attempted to meditate. Yoda swallowed a laugh, reminded of Qui-Gon Jinn doing the same thing in the face of a Sith. Apparently, the previous night’s activities were leaving Obi-Wan unsettled, but he was determined to face it as a Jedi should, calm and in control.

When he felt Obi-Wan begin to release his anxiety to the Force, Yoda sat up and gazed at his lover. The young man looked as if he had had a rough night but was well-rested. The circles under his eyes had started to fade, there was much less tension in his frame, and his Force presence was much less distressed. Even the bond port was giving him little pain unless he prodded it (which he gingerly did as part of his meditation). He was well on his way to overall balance. Yoda was not terribly concerned about his current anxiety; in his experience morning after jitters were to be expected.

Not wanting to let Obi-Wan flounder, Yoda got up with a stretch, then walked over and sat down in front of his lover, mirroring his lotus position. Obi-Wan’s stocking foot briefly reminded him of Elliot’s bare feet in his dream. It was very curious that Dream Elliot would have had a bond with Obi-Wan when the young man claimed he had never heard of him. He would have to ask more about that scar he had always assumed had been from his first bond with Qui-Gon Jinn, the one that had been broken on Melida-Daan. Obi-Wan’s bond port was quite tenacious, it was very possible his second bond with Jinn had grown from the remnants of the first, leaving only a single scar when Jinn broke it the final time.

Yoda took a moment to quiet his own mind before he brushed against Obi-Wan’s, asking to share in his meditation. His lover’s reaction was like the sun coming out after the rain, bright, warm, beautiful light shining on him. Taking it as a yes, Yoda reached out to clutch his lover’s hands, then opened his mind to him. Obi-Wan’s presence was welcoming, and unlike when he and Obi-Wan had shared their bodies, there was no anxiety, no fear, but then the young knight had been opening his mind to him since infancy, even through his teenage years when many young Jedi grew shy about such things.

Another bolus of anxiety was released as they joined more fully, partly out of politeness in the shared meditation, partly in relief, that if Yoda had joined him, he probably wasn’t itching to throw the young man out. After a few minutes during which Yoda sent him calm reassurance that he had not become an intrusion and Obi-Wan expressed his uncertainty and concern, all was at peace between them, the young man confident that he had not caused offense. Yoda was taking care to neither stimulate the bond nor the bond port, wanting to help Obi-Wan feel more normal, but he was radiating love, trust and care. Obi-Wan reflected back these emotions, but also worked to keep himself calm, not from sexual arousal, but from the happiness of being in love and being loved in return. Yoda’s not-quite-padawan was a Jedi, through and through.

Slowly, Yoda noticed a soft, piping, whistling sound, like a flute or pan pipes, just at the edge of his awareness. It grew louder over time, as if the source were coming closer or was growing bolder. A current of unease began to spoil Obi-Wan’s serenity, and Yoda realized he could hear it too.

_A whistling sound during meditation, that others didn’t seem to hear._

Yoda sent soothing reassurance. No, it was not a hallucination, any more than seeing Koli behind the wall. He opened himself further to his lover and soon a second melody joined the first, the two songs trilling and twining around one another, like birds calling in recognition on a spring morning. He could feel Obi-Wan marveling at this new Force manifestation, no longer frightened by it, nor worried for his mind if Yoda could hear it too. He seemed very surprised by the second song but could not identify the source of either one. The knight seemed to accept this mystery, relieved it did not seem dangerous or disturbing to the master. Eventually the whistling quieted to soft, intermittent sounds, quiet calls and responses back and forth that faded into the background, allowing them to focus on each other, their feelings, and find their serenity together. Obi-Wan was sorting through many new feelings, both physical and emotional, his body and mind suffused with a healthy energy, even more strange to him after so many days of anxiety and dread. Yoda could feel it in him, pleased that the effects of the previous night’s lovemaking were so positive, so free of angst and strife. Obi-Wan did have some anxiety when left to his own devices, but it centered primarily on being discreet, respectful and not embarrassing his lover. Regrets seemed to be entirely absent.

Soon the fears and confusion were released, leaving them to bask in their shared light. The whistling sound began to call again. Knowing this could set anxiety off again, Yoda withdrew with one last Force caress, then surfaced from the meditation. He opened his eyes to see his lover following behind him, blinking several times.

“Good morning, Beautiful.” Yoda smiled up at him, still holding his hands. “Sleep well you did?”

Obi-Wan looked down at him, fighting to keep his small smile from widening. “Good morning, Master. I did. Did you?” He managed to make a serious face. “I hope you were comfortable. I know I moved around in my sleep.”

“Mmm, yes. A very good cuddler you are. Warm and cherished all night I felt.”

Obi-Wan ducked his head, pleased, and gently stroked Yoda’s fingers with his thumbs. “You are very cherished, Master.”

“As you are,” Yoda waited until he caught Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Worried you were. Fear what you did?”

“Embarrassing you,” he admitted readily. “Annoying you. Not being discreet enough.” He looked down at his clothes, slightly distressed. “I look . . .”

“Well-fucked.”

“I’m being very obvious, aren’t I?”

Yoda laughed, sending love down the bond. “And surrounded by Jedi you are.” He squeezed at Obi-Wan’s hands. “Fear not. A shower and clean clothes fix that will.”

“I didn’t want to be the source of gossip,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I wasn’t sure if I should leave before everyone got up or wait until everyone left.”

“Discreet you should be,” Yoda agreed. “Go out like _this_ ,” he gestured at Obi-Wan’s disheveled state. “You should not. But fear being seen you should not. Ashamed of you I am not. A secret you are not.” He shrugged. “My half-padawan you are. Lived with me you did. If see you leave the neighbors do, think you came for counsel they probably will.” Well, Tahl wouldn’t. “Many counsel seekers stay the night do. That’s why keep new toothbrushes I do.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan nodded. “I thought they were for all the initiates who came for tea.”

Yoda snorted. “Them too.” He let go of Obi-Wan’s hands, turned around and lay his head back against Obi-Wan’s ankles. “Good for lovers they are too.” He smiled at Obi-Wan’s face above his own. “My lover you are. No padawan I have. No reason there is to throw you out at dawn.” He sighed as Obi-Wan’s hands settled, the fingertips gently stroking him. “Stay for breakfast you should unless duties you have.”

Obi-Wan smiled to himself, feeling more secure. “I think I’d like that, but I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“Mmm, very lucky you are, a small washing machine I have.” Yoda pressed against him, enjoying the contact. “Wash your clothes I can while shower you do. Dry after breakfast they would be.”

“That does seem ridiculously simple, but I don’t want to impose on you.”

Yoda snorted. “Made the mess together we did, Beautiful. Rude to deny your lover a shower it is. Doing their laundry more unusual is, but hmm, next time get you naked I hope I can.” His eyes sparkled and his ears curled in anticipation.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan conceded.

“Mmm.” Yoda turned his head to press a kiss to Obi-Wan’s ankle, then sat up and stretched. “To stay with you all day I would enjoy, but obligations I have. Come, to the refresher you should go, make yourself presentable you must.” He adjusted the ties on his cassock and smoothed down his sparse hair. “Get yourself clean you should. Let the whole tower know that the grandmaster a hot lover is you do not have to do.”

“Um, no, I think I’ll leave that to your more experienced lovers, Master.” Obi-Wan stood up and walked toward the refresher, feeling better with a plan in place.

“Come get your clothes in a few minutes I will. Find you something to wear I will.”

Obi-Wan looked a bit puzzled as to what Yoda could provide clothing-wise but trusted him enough to follow his directions.

As soon as the door was closed, Yoda let out a deep breath, resisting the urge to follow his young lover after their shared meditation had stirred _his_ blood, but not Obi-Wan’s. He took care not to visualize the young man undressing, he had seen him naked enough times to fill in his imagination with visions of fair skin, developed muscles and delightfully responsive flesh. He focused his attention on a more pressing matter: what was he going to feed his lover besides tea and bug butter? (He knew from experience that Obi-Wan quite clearly did _not_ care for bug butter).

Yoda stepped out into the main room and looked around for ideas, spying Nina, a potted stone-fruit tree on his balcony. There was a small, but ripe harvest sitting in her branches and they were _not_ gulquots. _Thank the Force._

Snatching a bowl from the kitchen, he scurried out onto the balcony, searching through the branches. He could probably salvage the leftover toast from the night before and he probably still had oatmeal he could put the fruit in, and he had tea and _good_ tea, but he didn’t have a good protein. He knew he had ration bars stashed in the parlor, but he hadn’t thought those suitable for his gentle seduction, much less for the morning after. Clearly, he was going to have to get groceries more often.

“Good morning, Master Yoda.”

Yoda looked up in surprise to see his _other_ next-door neighbor, waving at him from the far end of their shared balcony. He felt immediately apologetic. “A good morning it is, Master Piell.”

The Lannik smirked from his meditation mat. “I hope it’s as good for you this morning as it was last night.”

Yoda stopped searching the tree to face his neighbor and fellow Council member. “Pleasant times I expect, but as exciting not.”

Even snorted, clearly amused. “Much more excitement and you’ll set off the seismic tremor detectors.”

Yoda had the grace to look embarrassed. “Apologize I do. A new lover it was. Expecting that I was not.”

Even chuckled. “Better that than Jinn’s bellowing.” The Lannik suddenly grew suspicious. “It wasn’t Yaddle in there with you, was it?” Yaddle was rather fond of stone-fruit, she had two of the trees on her own balcony on the other side of the tower.

“ _No_ ,” Yoda shuddered at the idea. “Told you I did, see me that way she does not. Like siblings we are, lovers not.”

Even shrugged. “She tends to shake the tower when she really gets going.”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Know this I do. Shared thin walls we have. Bray like a donkey at climax she also does.”

Even laughed outright, reassured. “She does. Your lover was much quieter.”

“Sorry I am, trying to keep you awake I was not.”

“You didn’t.” Even stretched in the sun. “I was catching up on Council briefs. The tremor was a good reminder to go to bed.” He glanced at the tree with his one eye. “Trying to feed your lover? Did Kenobi miss re-stocking your larder recently?”

Yoda sighed, a hand on his brow. “Yes. Expected this was not.”

Piell chuckled. “If you’re not courting Yaddle, bug butter is generally a turn off.”

“Know this I do,” Yoda grimaced. “Cleaned out the pantry last night we did.”

“Sounds like you need a friend with food to spare.”

Yoda resumed his search for ripened fruit. “A burden I want to be not.”

Even reached behind his own potted plant and pulled out a small wire basket containing eggs, milk, breakfast bean curd and a small loaf of bread. Yoda stared at it, mystified.

“I asked myself, how on Coruscant could I pay back my good, green friend for the tip that the way to Master Yaddle’s heart is with gourmet insects. And then I remembered that he can’t seem to stock his own groceries, and when the floor shook, I understood why the Force prompted me to order extra eggs this week.” He gestured at the basket. “Thank you.”

Yoda bowed his head, wondering how many other Jedi had noticed the Force potentials he had been oblivious to. “Thank you, Even. Replace the groceries I will.”

The Lannik stood up and carried over the basket, pressing it into Yoda’s hands. “Don’t worry about it. Force knows you’ve helped me out dozens of times. Go on now, before your lover wonders where you are. I’ll try to get you drunk later so you’ll tell me the secret of pulling _two_ earth-shaking orgasms in one night on your first try.”

Yoda laughed, clasping his neighbor’s hand in thanks. “Help you it will not. Different parts Master Yaddle has.”

Even barked out a laugh. “We’re not monogamous. Inquiring minds want to know.”

Yoda shook his head as he brought the food inside. The shower was still running so he went into his room to find a robe for Obi-Wan, then tapped on the refresher door. “Coming in I am.”

“Okay.”

He entered the refresher, unsurprised to see Obi-Wan had folded his clothes. Yoda used the Force to hang the black silk robe on the door hook, then picked up Obi-Wan’s laundry. “Left a robe for you I did. Put your clothes in the washer I will. Breakfast will be ready in, hmmm, fifteen minutes?”

“You don’t have to make a fuss, Master.” Obi-Wan peered around the shower curtain, much more careful not to expose himself than he usually was.

Yoda gave him an unimpressed look. “Overcome by lust I will not be if see your shoulder I do.”

Obi-Wan looked down, a bit embarrassed, but stopped holding the curtain so tightly. “I didn’t want to be rude or make you uncomfortable.”

Yoda slowly tipped his head, as if trying to see around the curtain. “Make me uncomfortable your body does not. Tight my pants might get, but hmm, a pleasant discomfort that is.”

“Oh.”

Yoda laughed. “See you naked before I have.” He gave the knight a smirk. “Take too long do not, cold your breakfast will get.” He growled suggestively, then left his lover alone, chuckling as he felt Obi-Wan’s eyes on him. The young man wasn’t aroused, but he _was_ interested.

When he was satisfied that he had thoroughly cleaned every crevice, Obi-Wan stepped out of the shower and dried off. He glanced at himself in the mirror, trying to decide if he looked different. He ran a comb through his hair, brushed his teeth and decided he looked relaxed and no longer . . . scandalous. He looked over his face, his body, but there were no marks or obvious differences. His face looked smoother, less tense. He ran his hand down his body from collarbone to navel and could not deny his skin was still more sensitive than it normally was. He suspected his next self-care meditation would be _interesting._

The robe hanging on the door was enormous, cut for someone larger than himself, and he was reminded of those rare times when he had worn his master’s robes for one reason or another. Fortunately, this robe was _not_ intended to be worn over full uniforms and with a little fiddling he was able to close it and avoid flashing others. He wondered if this robe was normally used for guests or lovers. Regardless, it didn’t feel as if it had been used recently. The silk felt warm and smooth beneath his hand, like something Bail or Rouge would wear at home, or he might be dressed in for a ceremony in a foreign culture. Master Yoda’s tastes were generally simpler. He would have expected a terry cloth robe rather than this.

He came out of the refresher to the sound and smell of frying eggs. He knew from experience that Master Yoda cooked rarely but was actually quite good at it. His stomach growled.

Yoda looked him up and down. “Very nice you look. Feel clean now you do?”

“Yes, Master.” He tried not to feel self-conscious. “Did you want some help?”

Normally, Yoda would insist on taking care of a new lover, but Obi-Wan had lived with him, twice, and had already been in the habit of taking care of him. And this was all new to him.

“Set the table you can.” Yoda gave him a smile. “Almost finished I am.”

Obi-Wan nodded and began collecting plates, cups and cutlery to set the low table, putting smaller utensils and cups on the side with Yoda’s chair, and putting the standard-sized equivalents on the opposite side, replacing a chair with a floor pillow. By the time Yoda turned the eggs onto a serving dish and turned off the heat, Obi-Wan had brought over the steeping tea and condiments and filled the water glasses. Yoda brought over the hot food and began serving them both.

“Thank you, Master.” Obi-Wan’s tone was sincere as he poured tea for them both. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Heh,” Yoda gave him a grin. “Next time cook you can.” He cut them both generous slices of bread, then slathered his own slice with the last of the jam from the night before. “Blew your mind last night I did. Balanced you are, but hmm, use fire right now you should not.”

Obi-Wan blushed. “I’m still a bit distracted,” he admitted.

“Good.” Yoda gave him a mischievous look. “Did my job well I did.” He reached out a hand to grasp Obi-Wan’s. “Worry not. Went through a lot you did. Return your focus will soon. Help that the food will.”

Obi-Wan turned his hand so Yoda’s could rest in his palm. Dimly, he could hear the clothes washer finish its run and begin the sonic dry cycle. “I am starting to feel more normal, but I don’t feel quite the same.”

“The same you are not,” Yoda agreed. “A very intense experience you had. Still figuring yourself out you are.”

Obi-Wan looked at their joined hands, gently stroking his thumb over Yoda’s knuckles, cautiously expressing his affection. Yoda felt the gentle touch, felt the love, felt Obi-Wan had found his peaceful center, felt the gratitude for his care. He smiled at the gentle strokes. Qui-Gon Jinn had always been a tactile person and tended to stroke friends and lovers with his thumbs. It was not surprising that Obi-Wan would have picked up the gesture, even if it took much more to inspire him to use it.

“Master?”

Yoda glanced up to see Obi-Wan was giving him an apologetic look, as if a bit uncomfortable with whatever he had to say. “Yes, Beautiful?”

Obi-Wan took a moment to organize his thoughts. “You said before that we made love.” He grimaced, feeling awkward and ignorant. “Does this mean that I’ve lost my virginity?”

“Hmm,” Yoda sipped his tea. This was a new experience for Obi-Wan, despite his age. “Feel that lost something you have?”

“No.” Obi-Wan stopped eating to consider the question. “No, I don’t feel like I’ve lost anything, or that anything has been taken away. I feel as if, as if you gave me a wonderful gift, a new experience.”

Yoda squeezed his hand. “Hmm, good.” Yoda snagged a stone-fruit with the Force. “Like that term I never did. Makes virginity a commodity it does. Selling you off for nerfs I am not. Your virginity is yours, to keep or not, but change your value as a person it does not. So no, lose your virginity you did not. Give away your virginity you did not. Share your virginity you did. Shared this new experience you did. Define your own virginity you do, in all the ways that matter do. Made love you did with another, shared your body you did. Shared your passion you did. If no longer feel that a virgin you are, you are not. If feel you do that more you would need to share to be a virgin no longer, okay that is too. A Jedi is asked for many things but staying _pure_ is one not. Even monks and nuns _pure_ are not. Celibacy required of them is, but self-care encouraged is, and virgins they are not required to be.” He moved his hand to wrap his fingers around Obi-Wan’s thumb.

“Purity a false concept is, used to control, to foster ignorance. Sex change you can, for good and for bad but make you impure, unclean, unworthy or more respected it does not. Fuss about it too much people do. Maybe losing your virginity a process will be. Maybe more nights it will take than just one, maybe many steps it will be before comfortable you will feel with another’s body inside yours, or inside another you can be. Maybe want that never you will. Maybe more you will never want. Worry not about whether a virgin you still are. Figure out what want you do. Figure out what good feels. Figure out what kinds of sharing good feels. When know yourself you do, when know your body you do, your virginity a question no longer will be.”

“I suppose it’s a silly question.”

Yoda tugged on his hand until he caught Obi-Wan’s eye.

“Silly it is not. Important it is yourself to know.” Yoda squeezed his hand. “Enjoyed sharing your virginity very much I did. Honored by your trust I am. Hope I do that share more new experiences we can. But less valuable a second time those experiences would be not.”

“I think I want to share more with you, but I need to figure out more about myself first.”

“Good.” Yoda dug back into his eggs. “Eat you should. Feed your body. Feed your brain.”

“Yes, Master.”

“If come here to make love in the future you do, keep a robe here you may, if like that one you do not.”

“Um, I hope your other lovers won’t be offended that I’m wearing it.” Obi-Wan looked a bit embarrassed, as if caught unprepared. “I could put my own robe on if you prefer.”

“Bah, scratchy that is. Dry your underwear is not yet.” Yoda patted his hand before he withdrew to eat more easily. “Use that robe in years Simet has not. Forgot it exists he probably has.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan’s ears turned pink. “I never realized you and he were still lovers.”

Yoda snorted. “Live on the South Terrace you do not.” He shrugged. “Take care of each other we do, love each other we do, but casual we are, romantic not. Sex we have at his place, too old for the mat he thinks he is.” He rolled his eyes. “Half the time have sex on the floor we do. Another robe at home he has. Trust me you can, mind he will not.”

“And he’ll be okay with our new relationship?”

Yoda hid his smile behind his teacup, pleased that Obi-Wan seemed to have decided this would continue. The young man’s concerns were understandable. Polyamory was not for the faint of heart, even if it was the norm within the Order.

“Told you I did, very smug he will be. Make love together we still do, but a jealous man he is not. Very happy for us he will be.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan certainly hoped so, or his next session with Master Silvanus’s droids could get painful.

“Master,” Obi-Wan looked down at his plate, reminding himself that Yoda had not seemed concerned. “When we were meditating, I heard the whistling sound again.”

“Hmm, yes. Noticed that I did. The sound you feared it was?”

“Yes, Master. It feels like I’m hearing it through the Force, but I can’t figure out where it’s coming from.”

“Hmm.” Yoda did not sound surprised. “Hearing this during meditations you were, yes?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan nodded. “I’ve never heard it during a shared or group meditation before, but when I’ve been meditating near others, in the gardens or in meditation rooms, no one else seems to notice it.”

“Hear it they do not,” Yoda agreed.

Obi-Wan frowned, obviously puzzled by this. “I’ve meditated around Jedi much more attuned to the Force than I am. Shouldn’t they have heard it?”

“Perhaps. But for them the message was not.”

Obi-Wan considered this. “It was a message?”

“Yes.”

“A message for _me_?”

Yoda chuckled. “In a way, yes.”

“I don’t understand, Master,” Obi-Wan admitted.

“Mmm,” Yoda nodded. “Hear it for a long time you have not.”

“I don’t remember hearing until recently, Master.” He sighed. “And when you joined the meditation, it seemed as if there was a second voice, as if they didn’t come from the same place.”

“Yes,” Yoda confirmed. “A second voice you heard.” He patted Obi-Wan’s hand in reassurance. “Hearing your own soul singing you are. Hear that as a child you did.”

Obi-Wan looked mystified. “ _I’m_ making this noise? When I tried to trace it, it felt like it was outside myself.”

“Heh,” Yoda chuckled. “An eye floater you have ever had? Looks like something floating by in the air it does, but inside your eyeball the tiny mote is.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Like that messages from the soul can be. Feel it does like coming from some other it is, but hmm, not what it seems it is.”

“So . . . it’s coming from some part of me?”

“Hmm, sure we are not. Some Jedi believe that part of it _you_ are.”

Obi-Wan was clearly thinking this over. “You’re saying that what I see as myself is part of a larger whole, and that because this sound is coming from the whole, but not me, it feels like it comes from outside myself, because it is?”

“Yes, one model for the soul that is. Know as Jedi we do that more to the self, more to the mind there is than just what aware of we are. Luminous beings are we, come from that light the song does.”

“So was the second song _your_ soul?”

Yoda smiled softly. “Yes. Hear your soul call to mine I did. Chose to answer you I did.” He patted Obi-Wan’s hand. “Comes with strong emotions and strong bonds it does. Singing it was because a bond port you had but hearing it you are because developing your mind and your Force connection you have been. Singing in joy your soul is because growing our bond we are.”

“Is this something I can control?”

Yoda chuckled. “Mmm, somewhat. Part of the whole it is, full control you have not, but hmm, open and close yourself to it you can.”

“Oh.” He frowned again. “Is this a failure of control on my part?”

Yoda laughed outright. “No. Expected to control things outside the self you are not. Expected to control things you are not aware of you are not. Hmm, get yourself in harmony with the whole you should, so give away your emotions you do not. Strong Force users hear it can, but very normal it is, so stand out you would not, react to it they would not.”

“But it’s not harmful?”

“No,” Yoda confirmed. “In love you are. Very deeply. Beyond just yourself you love, deeper into your soul your love exists. Harmful it is not but understand I can why so hard to fight your feelings it was.” Yoda reached for him, pleased when Obi-Wan reached back, quite content to hold his hand. “Imagining it you are not. Hallucinating you are not. Learning to sense new things you are. A manifestation of our bond it is when sing together our souls do. Another way to sense it that it is. As with many things, learn to deal with it you will; learn from it, accept it, but be controlled by it you will not. Part of the whole you are but live on this plane you do. A glimpse of the whole beyond the self a gift is, but this life yours to live is, and lessons to learn in this life you have.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Is this something I should discuss with Master Pythia?”

Yoda cocked his head, thinking. “Yes, help you with this she can, help you to explore your larger self she can. But hmm, at some point grow past her you might. Her specialty this is not. Other masters you might need to consult with later. Also, the soul is something monks and nuns explore more than knights. Guidance give you they can.”

“Would it bother them that I’m,” he grimaced. “Not being celibate?”

Yoda snorted. “Bother them this will not. Celibacy required for this study is not. Focus and attunement required is. No missions the clergy have. More time they have for reflecting on the self, sex irrelevant to that is.” Yoda shrugged. “Relationships take up time can, but hmm, if find time to explore this you do, worth the effort it can be.”

“I really have a lot to think about.”

“Yes,” Yoda shook his head. “Surprise me it should not that make you think sex does.”

Obi-Wan lowered his head, laughing at himself. “No, it really shouldn’t.”

“Much meditation you have ahead. All at once try to do it not. Take time it will. Isolated yourself too long you have. Get back out into the world you must.”

“Meditate, but go see my friends?”

“Yes. Love you I do. Go see other people. Miss you they have. Healthy balance you need. The new questions you have, still there they will be.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, Master.” He sighed. “Normally if I had something this . . . multifaceted to work out, I’d go to the salle and work it out physically, but Master Drallig banned me.”

Yoda snorted. “Know this I do. Ran into him I did when looking for you I was.” He squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand. “Working yourself too hard you have been. Developing other parts of the self you are now.”

Yes, Master.”

The washer buzzed, signaling that Obi-Wan’s clothes were clean and dry. Obi-Wan squeezed back gently before he stood up to take his clothes out before they wrinkled. He hung them up in the guest room before returning to the table to finish his eggs and begin clearing the dishes.

“I can wash the dishes, Master, but I should probably change into real clothes first.”

Yoda sighed. “So tease me in that robe you will not?” He laughed at himself, patting Obi-Wan on the leg. “Washable that robe is. Gotten much worse than dish water on it Simet has.” He sipped at his tea, downing the last of it before going back to the table for a second cup. “Get dressed you should. Heading out for the day most of the neighbors are. Told you I did, a secret you are not, but ready to be teased by the masters I think you are not.”

“Teased?” Obi-Wan asked from the guest room. He had left the door just slightly open to continue the conversation.

“Friendly teasing it is but intimidating it can be. Been there I have. Very nosy Master Yaddle is.”

Obi-Wan snorted. Master Yaddle had always been aware of every padawan romance and case of puppy love when he was young. She had even teased him once or twice about his almost crushes that never really developed, but it was never cruel. Yaddle had always genuinely wanted people to be happy and not lonely.

“Oh, I _know_ that, Master.” He pulled on his boots, rolled up his inner tunic sleeves, then put away the leftovers and washed the dishes while Yoda had a quick shower and dressed. He was rather dismayed by how little food there was in the chiller and the pantry. Clearly he’d have to start putting orders in for Master Yoda again.

Yoda soon joined him back in the common room, both of them clean, dry and dressed. Obi-Wan had been kneeling in meditation, his tunics, sashes and tabards set to rights, his hair combed, his face freshly scrubbed, his golden stubble gone. Yoda resisted the urge to touch; the young man looked delicious.

“Go on with our days we must, Beautiful.”

Obi-Wan looked away at the endearment, still not really believing it. It would take time for him to process and accept every aspect of this new experience. “Yes, Master. Thank you for . . . many things, but specifically for being so understanding.”

“Told you I did, Obi-Wan. Very normal you _are_. Just older. By a little bit.” He held up his fingers, a tiny space between them. “Hard to understand you are not.” He reached out and clasped his new lover’s hand. “Always welcome here you are, in my home, in my heart, in my life. Even if continue this intimacy you choose not, still my love you will have.”

“Thank you, Master. I’ll still love you too, even if you don’t choose to stay intimate with me.”

Yoda gave him a soft smile, pressing Obi-Wan’s hand between his own, before his expression grew serious. “Now,” Yoda glanced toward the door. “Left the tower Master Yaddle has. Go now, clear the coast is!” He made shooing motions. Obi-Wan laughed as he got up, put on his robe and then left via the parlor as he had come in the night before.

Yoda smiled at him as he left. “Clever young man you are.” No one would question someone leaving a counseling room, no matter how many times the floor shook. He sighed as he sensed the young man leave, sinking into a chair. He felt contentment, in peace, and balanced. As much as Obi-Wan had been out of balance, he could finally acknowledge that he had been too, not only ignoring his own feelings, but keeping himself away from the one he loved.

He ran a finger over his ear, then over his own lips, shivering at the sensation. Obi-Wan had been warm, gentle and refreshingly open-minded, willing to challenge his own hang ups and fears. He had been alone for so long, but had been so responsive, so willing to both accept love and give it. And there was so much Light in him. 

Yoda looked down at himself. His body was still tingling, so _alive_. He felt a little silly, falling in love again at his age, but he could not deny the rightness in the Force, the beautiful connection between their minds. He could not recall the last time he had felt a bond like this, with such a strong foundation of platonic love that had grown into passion, but for Obi-Wan such a bond would be normal, in fact it might be the only way he could experience passion at all. And such passion he had, so deep below the surface. Qui-Gon Jinn had once referred to Obi-Wan as a cold fish, in a Council Meeting no less. _Well_. A cold fish he _definitely_ was not.

He glanced over at Simet’s photo again. “So smug you are and missed the signs _you_ did for _sixty years_.”

He sat quietly for several minutes and was just about to assume Simet wouldn’t answer when his comm beeped.

SI-CHIB: I didn’t have a bond with my lover beforehand.

Yoda grumbled. Very smug.

* * *

Master Yoda had been right. The coast _was_ clear. Obi-Wan headed toward the elevators, knowing he could take the stairs up or down a few flights if he encountered anyone particularly nosy. He wasn’t ashamed of his new relationship, but he was not ready to talk about it yet, much less be teased about it. He reached the elevator lobby without meeting anyone and waited for the lift. After a moment he could hear someone coming down the hall. He resisted the urge to pull up his hood. It was perfectly normal for a young knight to occasionally have business in the Master’s Tower, but an attempt to conceal his identity would only draw more attention. He let out a breath and tried to be unconcerned.

“Are we expecting rain this week then?” Master Piell was coming down the hall with a master Obi-Wan did not know. The other was some sort of insectoid or crustacean species, its exoskeleton clicking under its robes as it walked.

“Yes,” the other master’s artificial voice, emanating from a device on its throat, was decidedly feminine. “The Weather Corp said they would seed the local clouds with drones if our district didn’t get rain by the middle of the week.”

“Good, good.” Even looked eager at the thought. “It’s been too long. Everything is dusty and needs a good wash.”

The other master’s artificial voice made a fake coughing sound. “Agreed. I dislike this time of year. The dust keeps collecting in my spiracles. I’d welcome a breath of fresh clean air.”

“You are not alone in that. Something’s pollinating, makes my nose itch.” They both stopped in the lobby, the female master tapping the up button.

“Oh, good morning, Knight Kenobi.” Even peered up at him, looking suddenly concerned.

“Good morning, Councilor Piell, Master.” Obi-Wan bowed to his elders, keenly aware that Master Piell’s quarters were on the other side of Master Yoda’s parlor.

“This is Master Klrch’tck. She’s heading a new terraforming project with the Eng Corps.” Master Piell introduced the insectoid master who corrected his pronunciation with something even more indecipherable. “Kiki, this is Knight Kenobi. Up and comer in the Dip Corps.”

Kiki turned to face him, head and antennae waving as she got a sense of him, scanning him with her compound eyes, tasting his chemical makeup, and sensing him in the Force. “A pleasure to meet you. Forgive me for asking, young knight, but are you the Kenobi who plays Breggle with Master Yoda?”

Even’s single eye widened.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure what had alarmed the Councilor but answered honestly. “Yes, Master.” He didn’t even attempt to mutilate her name. “Master Yoda has been teaching me several different Breggle games.”

Master Kiki’s delight was readily apparent in the Force. “I do so hope to see you play sometime before I ship out again. So few Jedi play Breggle these days.”

Even looked slightly alarmed. “So sorry to interrupt but I do hope you aren’t on your way to visit your half-master, Kenobi. He’s been working on some vital Council business and shouldn’t be disturbed.”

Kiki’s antennae visibly drooped in disappointment.

“Um, no Master Piell,” Obi-Wan answered cautiously. “I had to drop something off for him but I’m leaving now.” He was fairly certain this _Council business_ was an excuse for Master Kiki given the way Master Piell was looking at her in relief, but he wasn’t sure why.

Kiki’s voice synthesizer made a disappointed sound as the lift signaled to go up. “Another time, perhaps. It was a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully, I will see you in the Games Garden. I hear it’s quite a show.”

Obi-Wan gave her a short bow as she stepped into the lift.

Master Piell slumped in relief when the doors closed, and the lift left the floor. “Dodged a blaster bolt there.”

“Did we?” Obi-Wan had been a bit confused by the whole interaction.

“I’m sorry I fibbed to you, Kenobi, though you really _shouldn’t_ go visit Yoda right now. Kiki is a Breggle _fanatic_ , she has been itching to play or observe a game since her ship landed, like she always does, but now that she knows there are new players, _watch out_. When she recognized you, I thought she was going to scurry right over to Yoda’s right now and demand a game.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan hadn’t realized there was such a thing as a Breggle fanatic.

Even peered down the hall in both directions, but they were alone. “There isn’t any Council business. Yoda is just _entertaining a visitor_.” He looked apologetic. “I hope I didn’t traumatize you. I know you’re close with him.”

“No, you didn’t traumatize me.” Selective honest seemed the best policy. “I certainly would not want to interrupt the Grandmaster’s private time.”

“Neither would I,” Even grinned. “Just between you, me, and the Force, I think he’s having a very good time. It’s been too long since he’s had new love in his life.”

“I certainly hope so,” Obi-Wan nodded as they both got into the lift, struggling not to react. “I do want happiness for him.”

“As we all do,” Even agreed. “But you might have to order his groceries for two now,” he chuckled at his own joke.

“Thanks for the tip.” Obi-Wan began to relax a little more as he realized Master Piell had not recognized him from the night before. “It’s already on my to do list.”

“You’re a good man, Kenobi.”

“Thank you, Master Piell.”

* * *

Healer Vygor sipped his tea and looked up as his next patient entered his office. Knight Kenobi stepped into the room, considered the assorted chairs and the chaise, glanced cautiously at the mobile, but ultimately decided to sit in his usual chair, facing Vygor head on. There seemed to be an air of trepidation about him, but the dread and despair that he had been shielding outside this office seemed to have left him.

“Something’s changed,” Vygor decided to be direct. Obi-Wan usually responded well to that.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I did have a plan for what I was going to discuss with you today, but . . . certain things have happened, and my plan is no longer appropriate.”

That explained some of the anxiety then. Obi-Wan had always taken the therapy process seriously, always doing his recommended assignments, not wanting to waste his healer’s time. His current impasse and lack of progress had been very distressing to him and had left him meek and apologetic.

“What was your plan and why is it now inappropriate?”

Obi-Wan looked a bit embarrassed. “I was going to ask for a referral to a psychiatrist to ensure my lack of balance didn’t have a physiological cause.”

“Hmm.” With his lack of progress, Vygor could certainly understand why he would want to rule that out. “And you now feel your issues are not physiological in nature?”

Obi-Wan seemed to be struggling to explain. “I was confronted by someone I had been avoiding and . . . I ended up disclosing my issues when avoidance was no longer an option.”

“Oh.” That was a potential outcome his patient had feared, but with his dread gone, it may not have gone badly. He glanced at the mobile, but it was only drifting in the breeze from the ventilation system. “So what happened next?”

Obi-Wan looked away, blushing. “My feelings were less unrequited than I had thought.”

Vygor felt his eyebrows rise. “Really?” That could break up the emotional logjam. “I take it you were confronted by your love interest?” Obi-Wan had disclosed little about the object of his affections, so _love interest_ was the term he had used.

“Yes.”

“And how did they respond to your disclosure?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat nervously. “With awkward and unexpected kissing.”

It took every ounce of will in his being for Vygor to keep his expression cool and professional. “How did that make you feel?”

“Shocked. Confused. Intrigued.”

“And then what happened?”

“A lot of talking.”

Vygor laughed, despite himself. “That is not at all surprising, given your personality.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, not denying it.

“Were you able to clear the air between you?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t quite stop a snort of his own. “Yes, we definitely did.”

“And were you able to move forward without tension between you?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan replied after a long moment. “We talked more, a lot more, and drew closer to each other and strengthened our bond.”

Vygor could tell there was more to _that_ statement. “By kissing?”

“Some. Some of it was . . . touching each other. A lot of it was mental. And more talking.”

“So your love interest is someone you had a mental bond with already?” Obi-Wan had not disclosed this previously, but this would explain why his apparently unrequited feelings were so distressing.

“Yes. I had been holding back from the bond and it had not gone unnoticed.”

“How did the contact make you feel? Excited? Repulsed? I know you’ve been concerned that despite your feelings your body might not respond in a normal way.”

“It was strange, but good. I had to go slow and get used to each new feeling, but it wasn’t bad.” He looked Vygor in the eye. “I enjoyed kissing. I really didn’t think I would, but when I tried it with someone I really trusted, it was warm, and comforting and exciting all at once. And they didn’t mind that I didn’t know what to do or that I had to slow down and stop sometimes.”

Vygor smiled. “That sounds like a very good experience.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I think it was.”

“Were you able to explain your lack of S-training to your love interest?”

Obi-Wan glanced away, uncomfortable, but the mobile’s movements didn’t change. “They already knew about it. We’ve discussed it before, as well as my asexual tendencies.”

“Ah.” That was going to be Vygor’s next question. Clearly Obi-Wan had been close with his love interest well before his feelings started. Classic demisexual. It was very consistent with his previous behavior under the circumstances of his upbringing.

“Have you considered exploring your sexuality with this person now that you’ve found someone you share a mutual attraction with?”

Obi-Wan blushed to the roots of his hair and looked away. “To be honest, we already are. Slowly.”

Vygor took a moment to digest this. “Are you saying that you’re no longer a virgin?”

Obi-Wan forced himself to look Vygor in the eye. “It depends on your definition of that.”

“Are you by _your_ definition?” That was the more important question.

“I’m not sure yet. I’m still processing it. This all happened only a few days ago,” he admitted. “What we did was very . . . one-sided. I don’t really know how to do anything, but, I, um, let them express their feelings with me physically.”

Vygor felt a bit of concern. “May I ask what that entailed?”

Obi-Wan was still blushing, but he was trying to be polite more than he was trying to lie by omission. “Yes. My, hmm, partner? They, um, pleasured me with their hands, and a little with their mouth. On my penis.”

“Ah.” That sounded much healthier than the previous vague description. “And they did not ask you to reciprocate?”

“No,” Obi-Wan shook his head. “They understood that I wasn’t ready for that yet. I think I want to try to. Later, not yet. I want to make them feel good, but . . . it’s intimidating, and I don’t know if I can. But I want to try, and I want to learn.”

“That sounds like a healthy response to such an experience. Did your lover’s attentions feel good? Physically and mentally?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan nodded, more to himself than to Vygor. “Yes, it felt very good. Overwhelming sometimes, but very good. They touched me in ways that I don’t touch myself, and it was very intense, so much more than masturbation. We already had a bond and were able to send emotions back and forth. Sometimes when they sent pulses down the bond, I could feel it in my body.”

“That’s not unusual in strong Force users if they share a bond with their lovers.” He glanced at his patient, who seemed less embarrassed in response to Vygor’s gentle acceptance. “Were you able to orgasm in response to your lover’s attentions?”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan was fighting off a giggle, half embarrassed, half-delight. “I, um, rattled the dishes. Twice.”

Vygor snorted at the description. “Well, you are still quite a young man. Two orgasms in one encounter isn’t all that surprising.”

“It was to me.”

“No doubt,” Vygor smiled at him. “So where are you planning to go from here?”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan admitted. “As I said, I’m still processing it all, and I expect I’ll be sent back into the field in the next week or so, so I don’t expect anything to really happen before that, and I don’t think I’d be ready to try anything else that soon. I know I want to try to reciprocate, to,” he swallowed, nervous. “To pleasure my lover. With my hands at least. I think kissing is the only oral activity I can handle right now. And I think it would be healthy to take my clothes off next time.”

Vygor looked down at this datapad, not quite smothering his laugh. “Yes, I think you’ll probably enjoy such activities more in the nude. It sounds as if your lover was very gentle and patient with you.”

“They were,” Obi-Wan agreed. “I know that is something Master Jinn could never be, even if he had attempted to train me. I don’t think he would have tried to hurt me, but he could be very impatient and short-tempered in the salle and in other lessons if I had difficulties with skills that come naturally to him. He had a high libido and a strong grasp of the Living Force; I think he just assumed everyone should just instinctively know how to have sex; he had said things which indicated this. I think my needing to go slow would have frustrated him.”

“It well might have. I don’t know why people have more difficulty understanding asexuality than hypersexuality, particularly among Jedi, but they do. I’m very glad to hear you were able to find someone who could meet you where you are and still find joy together.” He paused a moment, preparing to address the elephant in the room. “Am I allowed to ask who you felt comfortable enough with to possibly lose your virginity with?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan frowned. “You’re allowed to ask, but . . .” He sighed. “I never got around to asking if it was okay with them to disclose it to you.”

Vygor raised an eyebrow.

“They were very clear that I was not a secret,” Obi-Wan hurriedly explained. “But this is as much their right to disclose as mine. I don’t _think_ they’d have a problem with it, but I want to check first before I start telling people. We haven’t negotiated that yet. Not completely.”

“You think they might not want me to know?” Vygor was starting to get a little concerned.

“No, but I don’t know if they would want to tell you themselves.”

“Ah.” Vygor looked his patient over carefully, then glanced at the mobile which often revealed emotions his patients were trying to hide. Obi-Wan was not manipulating it, consciously or otherwise. He didn’t seem to feel ashamed, but he did seem genuinely concerned for his lover’s feelings. “Is this someone I know?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan answered honestly. “It’s not that I’m not comfortable with you knowing. I just didn’t think to ask if _they_ were comfortable with it.”

“You did sound a bit distracted.” Vygor gave him a knowing look.

“Yes. A little.” Obi-Wan smiled shyly.

“Well, I’m certainly interested to know when you feel comfortable disclosing more.”

“I know. I’ll ask. It feels disrespectful to just assume.”

“Because they are your superior in rank? You haven’t said so outright, but I had that impression.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, they are my superior, but no, I don’t feel that’s why. I think I’d want permission from anyone. I don’t think it’s a secret either, but we both took pains to go our separate ways without revealing our new relationship. I’m ready to talk about this with you, but not with everyone. I’m not ready to explain how I feel with everyone, or to admit this is my first sexual relationship and I’m _really_ not ready to deal with Master Jinn if he has a negative reaction to it. I don’t _think_ he’d care, but I’ve come to realize how bizarre and controlling his behavior was in this regard. There’s a chance he’ll react poorly. We still don’t speak, and this is not a situation we should start with.”

Vygor snorted. “No, you should definitely not start with this.” He glanced down at his notes. “I’m afraid I had a plan for today’s appointment as well, and it is mostly no longer necessary. There is one thing I do feel I should bring up with you.” He waited until he had caught Obi-Wan’s eye. “Master Yoda came to speak with me out of concern about you. I felt you should know that he is worried, and I did not want you to think I was keeping things from you.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan assured him. “Master Yoda told me he spoke with you.”

Vygor wasn’t surprised. “I hadn’t realized you were avoiding him, and I did find it concerning that your self-imposed isolation included him. I told him in my opinion that you were avoiding him because he knows you so well that he might be able to guess at your difficulties. Was I incorrect?”

“No,” Obi-Wan seemed a bit uncomfortable. “That’s not the only reason, but that was a big one.”

Vygor wondered if perhaps Yoda also knew Obi-Wan’s love interest and didn’t press further. “I understand if you are upset or feel this is a breach of trust.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment. “No,” he said at last. “Master Yoda is the grandmaster. He has a responsibility to the Jedi, and he was very worried about me. It was clear from speaking to him you disclosed what was professionally relevant, not my entire emotional saga.”

“I was very careful to maintain your confidence while fulfilling my professional obligations.”

“I know.”

“So are you and Master Yoda back on friendly terms, or is there still distance there?”

“I think we’re well on our way to healing that rift,” Obi-Wan sighed. “He got concerned with how I’ve been acting and . . . well, he interrogated me until I caved. I know I haven’t been dealing with my issue in a healthy way, and he’s very persistent.”

Vygor laughed outright. “Oh, I know it.” He stretched in his chair. “Well, then, if you are mending fences with Master Yoda, let’s talk more about this new relationship. You said it’s been a few days. How does it make you feel?”

Obi-Wan looked down, smiling to himself. “Cared for. Loved. Not tied down, but free because I don’t have to hide how I feel. A little curious about where this is all going. A little worried that I won’t be able to meet the challenges. A little paranoid, just a little, tiny bit, that I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream. A little bit giddy.” He cut his eyes to Vygor. “I’m not sure, but I think that’s normal.”

Vygor chuckled. “Yes, being a little bit giddy is very normal, especially after such a positive experience for your first time.” He made himself put on a serious face, hiding his own glee on behalf of his patient. “Should we discuss what you’re apprehensive about in this new relationship?” he asked.

Obi-Wan heaved a deep sigh. “We probably don’t have enough time to go over _everything_ , but I think I’m actually less anxious than I was before . . . everything happened.”

Vygor shook his head, amused. “Losing your virginity is often funny like that.”

Obi-Wan shrugged, not arguing the point. “My, my lover doesn’t really like that term and I think I agree with them. When I asked if what we did was enough to be considered losing my virginity, they said that was up to me, but I wasn’t less of a person now. They said we made love and I _shared_ my virginity. I never though it would make me less of a person if I did have a sexual experience, but I like the idea of sharing more than losing. It feels like the right word for the experience I had.”

“Sharing your virginity. I like that term. I’m going to have to use that.”

“I think it’s appropriate. It’s about the experience rather than making virginity a commodity.”

“Yes,” Vygor agreed. “An important distinction. So what is causing you anxiety despite your very wise and generous lover?”

Obi-Wan looked toward the ceiling and sighed. “Where do I start? Being naked in a sexually-charged situation. My partner being naked. Having urges at inappropriate times. Touching my partner in private places. Being touched in places more intimate than just my penis. Doing more things with my mouth than just kissing the mouth and face. Being well-groomed enough for someone to do intimate things with me.” He looked Vygor in the eye. “My lover seemed very interested in penetrative types of sex. I don’t want to hurt them doing that. I don’t know if I’d ever want that done to me.”

“That’s a big step from where you are now. Do you feel pressured to do so?”

“No. But I’m not naïve. I know a full relationship would typically go beyond what we did and I want to be able to be a good partner, not . . . not someone who can never move forward. And that doesn’t even begin to get into the social aspects, which I know we can’t really get into much until I have permission to tell you more. But the difference in rank has its own issues. We both want to be discreet, but how discreet should we be? We talked a little about having a romantic relationship, not just a sexual one, so does this mean we’re dating? Could we do that openly? Would they want to? And how do I negotiate around their other lovers? I don’t have a problem with them being polyamorous, but I don’t know how to avoid stepping on toes. And they were a friend before. I want to be a friend also without everything getting awkward.”

Vygor chuckled again. “I think I’ll still be seeing you for a while, but none of your anxieties seem unexpected, nor pathological. Given your previous experiences, it all seems fairly normal to me.”

“Hurray for normal,” Obi-Wan paused. “I like feeling normal.”

“Good.” Vygor looked down at his datapad which had been transcribing Obi-Wan’s statements so the healer could outline them later. “So what is causing you the most anxiety now, that you feel you can talk about?”

“I’m worried about not being able to reciprocate if we decide to get together again.”

“Okay. That’s a very reasonable concern.” Vygor made a note of it, highlighting the relevant text on his datapad. “Is this something your lover seemed concerned about?”

“No. They said the Force told them it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Vygor laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes. “And I take it the Force isn’t telling you that?”

“No.” Obi-Wan tossed his hands in the air, exasperated. “I know I was having issues hearing the Force before, but most of what I’ve been able to see has been . . . unbalanced between us.”

“Well, you might have to consult Master Pythia in regards to focusing your Force visions, but I can probably help you work through your anxieties so you can be more confident if you decide to engage in another encounter.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure to help you grow, Obi-Wan.” He set his face back to professional. “So what about reciprocation scares you most?”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and began to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's our last chapter everyone. Any thoughts about Eliott? About Obi-Wan's bond scars? About Even Piell being a good bro? About Obi-Wan's progress?
> 
> I do have a lot of ideas for other short pieces in this universe. When I post the epilogue, I'll ask what people are most interested in (though I promise nothing).


	29. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoda has a secret, Yaddle has an obsession, Even is a bit embarrassed, Simet calls in a bet and plays a long game, Bes gets a surprise, Ospen is both delighted and disappointed, Obi-Wan mends fences, many Jedi are frequent fliers, there is sibling rivalry and sibling cooperation, Qui-Gon avoids trauma and Yan Dooku is very much fed up with these immature morons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! We have reached the end! (The epilogue wasn’t supposed to be this long. What else is new?)
> 
> The quoted song lyrics are from _You Can’t Hurry Love_ , originally recorded by Diana Ross and the Supremes, but the linked video is to Phil Collin’s version of it. I thought it was an interesting flip-side to Passenger’s more bittersweet song in the last chapter, and went better stylistically as another male British singer. (Also, this was the more popular version when I was young and the video is hilarious, showing the limits of ‘special effects’ in the 1980s). All hail the Supremes, but I just thought this version worked better in this story. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9IwBJYTwQ0
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed along on this long journey. Congratulations, you made it to the end. I started writing this story (by hand) around January 15, 2019, and I wrote the last word (by hand) on September 19, 2020. We have had 28 chapters and an epilogue, more than 400,000 words, way too many original characters, way too much Yoda dialogue, and a long, meandering ramble while world-building. It’s been a fun ride for me, and I hope you have all enjoyed it, even if this monster is WAY too long, and anyone sensible would have started chopping it up and deleting stuff. 
> 
> For perspective:  
> Stephanie Meyer’s _Twilight_ : 118,975 words (remember how thick that damn thing was?)  
> Charles Dicken’s _Great Expectations_ : 183,349 words (but seemed so much longer)  
> J.K. Rowling’s _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ : 198,227 words (the longest in the series)  
> Herman Melville’s _Moby Dick_ : 206,052 (this seemed huge when my friend read it in college)  
> George R.R. Martin’s _A Game of Thrones_ : 298,000 words (but two books in the series are longer than ATLL)  
> Leo Tolstoy’s _War and Peace_ : 561,304 words (longer than ATLL! And to think he had to write it all out by hand!)
> 
>  **WARNINGS** : Frank discussion of sex and relationships, rampant gossip, teasing among friends, and discussion of suicidal ideation and depression. (No one is suicidal, people are just very concerned). Some of the teasing is a bit intense, but nothing the particular characters can’t handle.

_My mama said, “You can’t hurry love,_

_No, you’ll just have to wait.”_

_She said “Love don’t come easy,_

_But it’s a game a give and take._

_You can’t hurry love,_

_No, you’ll just have to wait._

_Just trust in a good time,_

_No matter how long it takes.”_

\--Lamont Dozier, Brian Holland, Eddie Holland, _You Can’t Hurry Love_

Lunch hour was the most socially active time in the community. Breakfast was usually quiet, meditative, as Jedi moved from conscious to fully awake (and often caffeinated). Dinner was more active than breakfast, but for most species it was when the day began to wind down, getting the evening meal before a few hours of quiet study, meditation, and sleep, the physical work of the day typically at an end. But lunch time was usually still in the thick of it, the busiest part of the day for both diners and staff.

Some Jedi thrived on that energy. Others fled to their quarters or chose takeaway food to eat elsewhere. Most were somewhere in between or varied by the day. Healer Vygor was in this latter group and today he was really enjoying the organized chaos of so many Jedi coming together. The commissary felt almost like a bustling town square for the Temple, a place where if you only waited long enough, you’d see everyone you know. The Visitor’s Hall could be like this too, but there were frequently outsiders and tour groups present, so Jedi tended to be more on guard there. The commissary was home, the inner den, where this rather heterogeneous family truly came together.

Vygor was sitting at the usual table where he had his periodic lunches with Master Yoda. The room was too busy and not nearly secure enough to discuss specific patients, but it was a good place to discuss trends, the mental health of the Jedi in general, or to touch base and arrange to meet if there was a need. It had been a good week for his patients overall, there seemed to be a little more Light in the Temple this week, and Vygor could feel it’s effects in the diners. Everyone was just a little more upbeat, as if the weather had finally turned for the better after days of gloom. (They had _finally_ had rain and it helped clear the air. That alone could account for the population level mood boost, but Vygor thought some Force change was also at work).

He was just finishing his salad when two small, green, clawed hands pushed a tray onto the table across from him, followed by Master Yoda pulling himself up into the seat. Vygor always felt like he should help, offering an arm or picking up the little master, but Yoda just told him it was his _exercise_.

“Good day, Grandmaster. Are you well?”

Yoda adjusted his tray and food. His demeanor seemed to be pleased, his mood boosted by the Force patterns as much as anyone else’s.

“Well I am. Good Force currents there are today.”

Vygor gave him a smile as he picked up his sandwich, validated. “I agree. I’ve seen the effects on my patients, and I can feel it too.”

“Yes,” Yoda agreed. “Tipped to the Light the balance has a bit. Put Jedi in a good mood that can.” He glanced at Vygor. “Good for your patients that can be, often stressed they are.”

Vygor nodded. “The currents can help boost the mood of my depressed patients, can soothe my anxious patients, and encourage everyone in general. It doesn’t cure my patients, but it can sometimes spur them on to progress to the next step.”

“Just your patients not. Very well my students did today. Easier it can be to grasp the Force when fresh currents we get.”

“What were you teaching today?” Vygor asked.

“An initiate saber class it was. Block laser shots while blindfolded they did. Their second try it was. Very good progress they had.”

Vygor chuckled. “I was _so_ terrible at that.”

Yoda snorted. “Terrible you were not, but clear it was, elsewhere your true talents lie. Send you on a rescue mission we would not, but skilled enough to defend yourself you are.”

“Maybe I was then, but not anymore. I haven’t touched a saber in decades.”

“Hmm, different ways to defend yourself there are. Cin working is with the monks and nuns, developing defense classes for Jedi who work in the field are not. Teach you to fight off a Sith it will not but defend yourself from a mugger you could.”

“I really should step up my exercise program,” Vygor conceded. “My core strength has really gotten bad.”

“Simet very concerned is that too soft the Jedi are getting, but getting back in shape a good idea is anyway.”

“Simet?” Vygor was not familiar with the name.

“Master Silvanus,” Yoda clarified. “Former battlemaster he is. My padawan he was.” He looked around the room, eyes, narrowed. “In the commissary he might be.” He rolled his eyes. “Smug bastard.”

“Oh, _that_ Simet. I ever knew you were his master.” He frowned. “He always seemed very humble on the holonews.”

Yoda shook his head. “Usually humble he is. Missed something in the Force I did. Very obvious to him it was. Very smug he will be.” Yoda help up his gimer stick. “Smack it out of him I might if sass me he does.”

“Ah,” Vygor sipped his chilled tea. “He’s being a snotty padawan?”

Yoda sighed. “Missed his hints I did. Justified he is. A little bit.”

Vygor laughed.

“Your patients doing well are you said. Pleased you seem today.”

Vygor smile. “Yes, they are doing very well. In fact, one of my patients made a real breakthrough.”

“Good to hear that is.” Yoda looked up and behind him to see Master Tahl slowly approaching their table. He rapped sharply on the tabletop next to him with his gimer stick to signal to her that the spot was open. Tahl sighed silently as she honed in on the sound and the signal in the Force. She did very much enjoy the energy of the midday rush, but only _after_ she was safely seated.

Vygor looked Yoda over carefully; he really did seem to be in a much better mood than the last time they had talked. “Have you made progress with the matter you consulted with me about?”

Yoda gave him a cautious look, choosing his words carefully. “Yes, resolved well the matter has been. Hear about it soon you no doubt will.”

“Oh, I already have. As you know, the patient has downplayed the issues we had discussed before, so I wanted to make sure your interpretation of the progress made between yourselves was in line with what the patient reported recently.”

Yoda blinked at Vygor in surprise. This seemed a little personal for the therapist to bring up at lunch. “Very well our relationship is now.”

“Great,” Vygor grinned. “Are you aware of the latest development?”

Yoda raised a skeptical brow ridge. “When speak with the patient last you did?”

“Yesterday.” Vygor wondered if Yoda did not know. Kenobi hadn’t specified the exact sequence of events.

“Hmm, and told you the patient did that back on track we are?”

“Yes,” Vygor nodded, a little concerned. “I was also told that they were able to move ahead with the _other party_ they were having issues with. It’s not that I don’t believe them, but the patient is still holding back the identity of the third party, hence I wanted to verify.”

The little master stared up at him. If Vygor didn’t know better, he’d think Yoda was scowling. “Why tell you this he did not?”

Vygor grimaced but did not draw attention to Yoda revealing his patient’s gender. “They wanted to ask permission first. They said it was someone I know and didn’t think it would really be an issue, but they didn’t want to assume. It’s unusual, but not inconsistent with their personality.”

Yoda’s expression softened back into his usual calm, though there was still a trace of worry. “Embarrassed the patient was?”

“No, definitely not.” Vygor poked at his vegetable crisps. “They were concerned with discretion, and it almost seemed like they felt it was a consent issue. I think they would have been more forthcoming if the other party was a stranger to me. I expect they will be able to tell me by the next appointment.” He looked down at Yoda, concerned. “Is there an issue you think I need to know about?”

Yoda stared at him for a full second before he started laughing. “Yes, an issue you should know about there is. Tell you later I will. Worry about _consent_ the patient need not, but telling you the truth they probably were. Concern them very much that would.”

Vygor relaxed slightly, eating a crisp. “Good. That’s what I thought, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t verify.”

Yoda patted his hand. “A good man you are. Leave you in the dark I will not.”

“Thank you, Master.” Vygor clasped his hand, sending his gratitude, then glanced toward Master Tahl. “Sorry, Tahl. I’m done talking shop.”

Tahl shrugged. She had just finished positioning her food. “It’s important. Don’t worry. I heard nothing, I know nothing, I hope it all works out.”

“It must be very frustrating to listen to.”

Tahl laughed. “I was on a mission once when I was a padawan and ended up watching a primarily human holo soap opera which was in the native language, of which I only knew a few phrases. All the actors were very fashionable, well-groomed and very emotional, giving long speeches and using exaggerated body language and facial expressions, but I could not understand a word of it. The plot was very, very convoluted but I had no idea what was going on and it was the only show on in the evenings.” She sipped her cold tea. “Listening to you two talk is kind of like that. I can sense the emotions and importance, but still have no idea what is going on.”

Vygor chuckled. “Well that was all I had today. Let’s chat about something we’re allowed to be open about.” He looked down the table that had slowly been filling in. Even Piell had sat down a few seats away. Nori and Gi-Ho were settling in further down on Tahl’s side. Master Tiin sat down next to Piell, the two Council members an amusing juxtaposition. At the far end of the table, two older Jedi were joining the group. Vygor did not know who they were, but one had prosthetic legs and the other seemed to be levitating their lunch trays. Yoda raised a brow ridge at the tall one who was ignoring him, but Gi-Ho and Nori seemed very happy to see them.

Vygor turned back just in time to see Master Yaddle hop up on Yoda’s other side to give him a suspicious look. Yoda ignored her, quite intent on his soup.

Yaddle huffed at him, clearly not getting the reaction she had hoped for. Unsatisfied, she leaned in close, getting into his personal space to sniff at him. He turned to glare at her until she backed off, neither of them speaking. After a long moment, Yoda returned his attention to his soup. Yaddle continued to stare at him, eyes narrowed, then quick as a flask struck out with her hand and plucked a very short hair from the back of Yoda’s head. The effect was instantaneous; like lightning, the elderly grandmaster turned on her, snarling menacingly, lips curled to show his very sharp, white teeth. Yaddle gave him a very unimpressed look, then held up the hair pointedly, dropping it into his lap. Yoda’s glare was much more venomous this time.

“Hmph,” Yaddle sniffed as she hopped off the bench to go sit next to Tahl. “Right I was.”

At the far end of the table, Vygor noted the strangers had been joined by Master Turvis and his monk guy-friend. (Vygor had never quite managed to catch the brother’s name). Everyone on that side of the table was staring at the two masters having their spat with varying degrees of alarm, except for the tall one in the dark-lensed spectacles, who was shaking his head.

“Don’t mind them,” he told the others and Vygor immediately recognized his deep, gravelly voice from the holonews in his youth. “They’re just being lizards.”

Vygor looked back at Yoda, then Yaddle, keenly aware in the moment that they were _not_ human and that while their sentient psychological makeup could be similar, it was _not_ the same.

“How many rows was it?” Simet called down the table.

Yaddle stared at him, stunned, but it was not clear if it was the question or his presence that had surprised her. “Two.”

Si’s eyebrow raised behind his glasses, pleasantly surprised. Yoda growled in his general direction, rubbing at the back of his head where he had been plucked.

“Should we ask what that was about?” Vygor asked cautiously.

“No.” Yoda gave him a warning look. “Encourage her you should not.”

Yaddle looked smug as she stabbed her straw into her drink. “A new lover he has.”

If looks could kill, Yaddle would have been a smudge on the bench.

“Oh,” Vygor looked very surprised. “Good for you, Grandmaster.”

“Hmph, yes. Complaints I have not.”

“Denying it he was,” Yaddle groused. “Lie you should not.”

“Your business it is not.”

Yaddle crossed her arms. “Told Simet you did.”

“No, he didn’t,” Simet replied.

Yaddle glared at him. “Thinks he knows everything he does.”

Yoda shrugged. “Listen to the Force he does. Stop that I cannot.”

Yaddle rolled her eyes, then glanced at Tahl who was trying not to smile at the byplay. “Tell you did he?”

Tahl swallowed and sipped her water. “No, but I was aware.”

Even snorted. Vygor made a questioning noise.

“Master Yoda is my next-door neighbor,” Tahl explained.

Yaddle looked somewhat appeased that Yoda hadn’t been telling all and sundry except her. “Hide it he cannot.”

Vygor looked back and forth between the two little green masters. “Is it a pheromone thing?”

Yoda rolled his eyes.

“No,” Yaddle smirked. “Wearing cologne he is.” She sounded very amused. “Also growing new hair he is. Serious this is if a hormonal shift there has been. Just a fling not.”

“Definitely not,” Simet concurred. Gi-Ho looked confused.

Yaddle gently placed a hand on Tahl’s elbow. “When happen this did? Hear it I did not.”

“Last week,” Tahl snorted. “They weren’t loud, but I did notice.”

Yoda cleared his throat but did not look up from his soup. Even smiled to himself. Tiin shook his head at the gossip.

“Though I do have to wonder what exactly you were doing over there, Master,” Tahl laughed. “It must have been very exciting.”

Even snickered. Yaddle looked at the Lannik, suspicious.

“Meant to disturb you I did not,” Yoda sounded apologetic.

“You didn’t disturb me,” Tahl assured him. “And Force knows Qui-Gon has disturbed you. _Many times_.”

Both Even _and_ Yaddle snickered.

“I wasn’t bothered, but I had to turn off my house droid before it got too excited. What were you doing over there, deflowering virgins?”

Yoda coughed on his soup, eyes wide. “Sorry. Break something did?”

Tahl chuckled. “No. You knocked over the coat rack. TooJay thought it was a seismic tremor.”

Yaddle cackled.

“Did anything break at your place?”

“Cracked a cup did,” Yoda admitted. “Worth it.”

“I’ll bet,” Tahl smirked. Even picked up his cup in salute and chuckled heartily. Tiin shook his head and Simet rolled his eyes behind his glasses.

“Why were things getting broken?” Vygor asked, mystified.

Yoda scrunched in his chair. “Happens sometimes it does.”

“Master Yoda’s mysterious new lover is probably strongly telekinetic.”

Across the table Simet snorted. Bes was watching them all, slightly disturbed.

“Whoever it was sent out a telekinetic pulse, presumably at orgasm,” Tahl continued. “It’s mostly involuntary but tends to happen if one is particularly overwhelmed or inexperienced in general, which is why I was teasing him about virgins.”

“Oh.” This wasn’t something Vygor had experienced himself. “It knocked over your coat rack?” he asked, incredulous.

Tahl shrugged. “My droid always loads it lop-sided because it thinks that will make it _easier_ for me to find things. I’ve knocked it over myself before, so it doesn’t take that much. And they only knocked it over the second time. The first time they just rattled the dishes.”

Even burst out laughing.

Vygor froze, swallowing with great care. He put down his sandwich and glanced at Yoda. The sneaky, little lizard was peeking at him but quickly looked away before he could catch his eye. Very deliberately the healer wiped his mouth, then put down his napkin, crossed his arms, and stared down at the grandmaster.

“Rattled the dishes?” he asked at last.

Yoda shrugged, but did not look up from his soup.

“Oh, the telekinetic pulse can rattle anything, but since dishes are usually stored stacked it makes a distinctive sound. Happens with ground tremors too, but those last longer,” Tahl explained.

Yaddle snickered, well familiar with it.

Vygor stared harder. “Deflowering virgins?”

Yoda gave him a pained look. “Heard about this already you have?”

Vygor lowered his head into his hands. “I _thought_ ‘rattling the dishes’ was a euphemism!”

Everyone at the table turned to stare in response to Vygor’s outburst, except Si who was carefully using the Force to stir honey into his cold tea.

Yoda barely managed to keep a straight face. “Hmm, no. A euphemism it was not.”

Yaddle was about to ask if the healer had figured out the identity of Yoda’s new lover when he raised his head, staring at nothing. “Force, it makes so much sense now.”

Yoda stared at him, wide-eyed. Simet chuckled.

“It all makes so much sense. Why he wouldn’t tell me. Why he wouldn’t tell you. Why he thought it was inappropriate. Why he thought—” he stopped abruptly, cutting himself off with a small whining sound. “When did _you_ figure this out?”

Yoda looked decidedly embarrassed. “Made him tell me I did. Before the dishes rattled. A few hours before.”

Vygor huffed out a breath, his mind clearly blown.

“Talk more later we can,” Yoda told him, trying to keep the atmosphere calm.

“Talk more _now_ we can,” Yaddle objected.

Vygor glared at her. “No. We can’t.”

Yaddle narrowed her eyes at him. Vygor stared back, unmoved. Yaddle huffed.

“If it’s one of his patients, Vygor can’t tell us,” Tahl reminded her.

“Not your business it is,” Yoda growled at her. “Need your teasing we do not.”

Yaddle looked from Yoda to Vygor and back again, brow raised. “Very protective you are.”

Both Yoda _and_ Vygor scowled at her.

“Now I understand why you were trying to be discreet,” the healer mused.

“Stubborn she is,” Yoda agreed.

“He has his reasons, Master Yaddle,” Simet put his shaking hands in his lap so Bes could reach over to cut his food for him. “The new relationship is a blessing from the Force, but a delicate thing. Be the patient Jedi I know you have inside you.”

Yaddle gave him a venomous glare. “A smart mouth you have for one so young.”

The rest of the table fell silent, several suppressing nervous giggles over the idea of _anyone_ considering Master Silvanus _young_.

Si took off his glasses and hunched down to be at her eye level, thrusting his head forward and hissing in exactly the same tone Yoda had used. “You should be wary, for I am very protective of my kin.” He raised an eyebrow. “Far too young you are for such a _teef_ to be.”

Yaddle’s jaw dropped. “Snotty little boy! Thought you were mature I did. Wrong I was!”

Simet straightened up. “I’m not the one gossiping like a schoolgirl.” He gave her a warning glare.

Yaddle turned back to Yoda. “Spend too much time with you he has. Thinks he is a lizard he does.”

“ _Heel lang geheugen_ he has,” Yoda shrugged. “More than one hundred years to learn he has had.”

Yaddle looked back at Si, intrigued. The master curled his lips to show his teeth, (surprisingly strong and white given his age), only looking away when Bes slid his plate back to him.

“Long memory, indeed,” Yaddle murmured.

“Hmm?” Tahl asked.

“Nothing.” Yaddle glanced around and realized everyone else was well into their meals and her own was untouched. “Other ways to find out there are.” She began to eat.

“Is that okay?” Bes asked quietly.

Simet glared at Yaddle. “I think she understand that interference will yield consequences.”

“Um, I meant the food.”

“Oh!” Simet looked down at his plate. “Oh, yes. That’s very helpful, thank you.” He raised his hand and his dishware and the food on it began to move slightly, as one might do to arrange a meal to their liking before eating. “It’s much easier for me if each piece is bite-sized so I don’t have to break a piece off with my teeth. My teeth can still do that, but with my hands it’s too easy to drop the rest or end up with things going flying.”

Bes gestured at the dish of custard. “I wasn’t sure what to do with dessert.”

Si snorted. “Share it. It’s too much for just me.” He shrugged. “It sticks to the spoon better than cake or fruit gel, and since I’m no longer very hungry by dessert I usually have a bit more dexterity.” Si began to eat, picking up the bite-sized pieces of meat, vegetables and warm bread chunks one by one, and putting them directly into his mouth, rather than trying to use utensils. Bes thought he made it look both casual and elegant, despite the tremor.

Brother Ospen raised an eyebrow. “Not that I’m not happy to see you out and about, Master Silvanus, but was there a problem with lunch today?”

Si swallowed carefully. “Not at all.”

Bes grinned at the monk. “I’m learning how to be Si’s food buddy and later he’s learning to be my spotter so we can both get out more.”

Ospen grinned broadly. “That’s terrific.” He beamed at Si. “I do hope you’ll be able to join us on more outings if you both feel more comfortable.”

Nori elbowed Gi-Ho and they shared a smile, glad to see Si was taking on his challenges again.

Ospen frowned a little. “The Aleut’s trip is still up in the air, but we have other outings planned. The Open Air Market. The Hawkbat Festival. Jawa Juicefest. The Equinox Parade.”

“It truly baffles me why a megacity planet still celebrates astronomical festivals when the powers that be have tried so hard to eliminate the seasons,” Si groused.

“It closes the fiscal year,” Bes explained. “The Banking District started it.”

“Ah,” Simet nodded. “Which explains why charitable donations are traditional.”

“Yes,” Bes snorted. “Tax write-offs.”

Si shook his head.

“May I join you?”

Bes looked up to see Master Monti standing next to him, holding his tray. “Of course,” he grinned.

“Thank you, Bes. Hello Simet, Turvis, Brother Ospen.”

“Good to see you, Master Monti.” Ospen looked contrite. “I must apologize on behalf of Brother Trose who was sending you prompts to update your contact information. It has come to my attention that there was something of a misunderstanding there.”

“I was starting to wonder.” Monti fortunately looked more amused than offended.

“What happened?” Turvis asked, partly concerned that Ospen looked genuinely embarrassed, partly interested since Brother Trose stories were usually quite entertaining.

Ospen looked down at his hands. “I’m afraid Brother Trose was under the mistaken impression that Master Monti recently began a close relationship with either Master Bes or Master Silvanus, or both, and was prompting him to update his contact information with the guards and the staff.”

Simet began to cackle, deep in his chest. Bes’s eyes widened. Monti looked slightly disturbed.

Ospen let out a deep breath, fighting a blush. “I must apologize for not stopping it sooner. He was not the only staff member with this mistaken impression, but I was recently informed by Sister Vella that Master Bes had confirmed that when he and Master Silvanus referred to _Statistics with Monti_ , they were in fact working on actual mathematical analyses together.”

Turvis burst out laughing. Si raised an eyebrow and Bes’s jaw dropped, stunned.

Monti looked more disturbed. “This does explain the odd looks I was getting when I mentioned we were almost ready to bring in Cin to show him our good stuff.” 

Nori shot water out of her nose. Gi-Ho tried not to choke.

Si laughed harder. “While the analysis is rather fascinating, I don’t think Cin is going to be _quite_ that grateful to us, no.”

Nori and Gi-Ho were wiping away tears.

Simet turned to catch Monti’s eye. “My apologies if you were traumatized.”

“I’m too old to be traumatized,” Monti groused. “But I can assure you, Simet is just a friend.”

Simet snorted. “That’s very kind of you, Monti.” He frowned, trying to corral a slippery piece of bread. “I would have thought I’d be considered a fossil.”

“Of course not,” Monti assured him.

Turvis looked amused. “What about Master Bes?”

Bes blushed, not sure how to assure Monti he didn’t have to answer that.

Monti chuckled. “Bes is just a friend too, but I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed if he were so inclined.”

“ _What_?” Bes asked, stunned. Simet patted his hand in reassurance.

“Oh, I’d never interfere if you and Simet want to be exclusive, but you’ve always been adorable, Bes,” Monti explained.

“I have?” Bes asked, bewildered.

“Yes. Adorable. Sweet. Kind. Intelligent. Handsome.”

“Thank you,” Bes replied, faintly, still confused.

Monti chuckled. “I was a little too old for you when back when we were field Jedi, but,” he shrugged. “We’re all old now.”

Bes glanced at Master Yoda. Clearly age wasn’t an issue for everyone. “Yes, we are.” He frowned, thinking it over. “Did I understand you correctly that you said you’d consider sleeping with _me_ but _not_ with _Simet_?”

Monti shrugged. “More or less.”

Simet did not seem concerned. “I told you, Monti doesn’t see me like that.”

Bes looked rather confused. “But he was the _battlemaster_ ,” he protested. Surely Battlemaster Silvanus had more sex appeal in just his resume than Bes used to have in his full, intact body.

“I know,” Monti replied.

“Monti is immune to the Battlemaster Mystique,” Simet explained. Monti cracked up in response. “He was vaccinated when he was a padawan.”

“What do you mean?” Bes looked back and forth between the two of them. Simet and Monti had a good rapport between them, their brilliant minds playing off each other, they were both attractive men, were both attracted to men, and were clearly old friends. It was baffling to Bes why Monti _wouldn’t_ want Si.

Simet caught Monti’s eye, clearly amused. “Back in the early days, when Coruscant still had tiny patches of grass, but not trees, when young Monti was an idealistic padawan, and you were still in the creche, I was,” Si paused, trying to find the best wording. “I was having a very nice affair his master.”

“Oh.” Bes sometimes forgot exactly how much older Si was.

“Oh, no, Simet,” Monti shook his head. “It wasn’t a _very nice affair_. It was a _passionate, torrid affair_ , that brought a sparkle to her eye, a spring to her step, and joy to her heart.” He grimaced. “That’s why I don’t want to have sex with Simet myself, though I imagine it would be very good.”

Their entire end of the table began to laugh.

Simet shrugged. “Monti and I have been good friends over the years, but I do understand why he would _not_ be attracted to me.”

Monti chuckled again. “I’m not entirely certain, but I imagine you are more like an uncle or a stepfather to me. My master and I were more familial than most, we had to find a very nice man to give me my S-training. Simet was her lover, at least the one I knew about, and I was also under the mistaken impression that they were exclusive _and_ that Simet was straight. For years.” He shrugged. “I can certainly appreciate Simet has a certain sex appeal, but he’s just not like that for me.”

“I never expected otherwise,” Si assured him. He glanced at Bes. “Perhaps you could explain your attraction to Bes. I do try to tell him he’s a beautiful man, but he never believes me.”

Bes blushed bright red.

Monti chuckled and patted Bes’s hand. “I’ll explain later if you still need to know,” Monti told him, eyes twinkling. He looked up at the rest of the table. “What’s the good gossip today?”

Turvis and Gi-Ho cracked up. Ospen rolled his eyes, and Nori looked thoughtful.

“Master Yoda has apparently taken a new lover,” Turvis explained. “Simet knows who it is, and Vygor has figured it out but can’t say due to patient confidentiality. It’s driving Master Yaddle nuts.”

Monti chuckled, glancing at Simet. “Is _that_ what the Force was telling you?” 

“Yes.” Simet carefully picked up a slice of root vegetable. “It almost didn’t happen.”

Gi-Ho leaned forward. “You really do know? You’re not just tormenting Yaddle?”

“Yes,” Simet wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Tormenting Yaddle is an added bonus.”

Monti blinked at Gi-Ho in surprise. “Why are you so interested in Master Yoda’s love life?”

“I didn’t know he _had_ a love life,” Gi-Ho replied. Ospen snickered, unable to keep a straight face. Monti looked rather amused as well.

“We also might owe Cin money,” Nori admitted. “We had a bet going.”

“Did you?” Si sounded very amused. “What a coincidence. Cin lost a bet to me just recently.”

Bes wondered how he had ended up friends with so many gamblers.

“Did you win anything good?” Turvis asked, well accustomed to friendly bets.

“A tidy sum of credits, _if_ our esteemed Battlemaster makes an appearance. If he does,” he caught Ospen’s eye. “It’s enough to solve that little problem with the Aleut’s trip.”

“Really?” Ospen’s eyes widened.

“We can go?” Turvis looked elated. He wasn’t a resident, but as a semi-retired Jedi, he was welcome to attend if space permitted.

“ _If_ he pays up.” He glanced at Ospen. “Cin usually pays me in Temple coins, but those are easily converted.” Temple coins had originally started as an in-house currency used to teach the younger Jedi how to handle cash as not every world they would visit would take Republic credits. They proved so convenient and useful for the Jedi in general that they eventually evolved into a currency accepted by in Temple businesses including Stores, the cafes and the commissary, Slo Min’s establishments, and various Temple fundraisers. Local vendors were also known to take them, knowing they could be converted at the Temple Business Office or at local credit banks, or exchanged with eager tourists to take home as a souvenir. It was not unusual for Jedi, but also civilian employees to have a few coins on hand or a stash at home, or for an office’s petty cash to be in this form. 

“That’ll work,” Ospen confirmed. Some of the brothers and sisters dealt with the Temple coins almost exclusively, rather than credit chips.

“Cin had a meeting,” Nori reported. “He should be coming in soon.”

Gi-Ho grinned. “Maybe Cin will be able to strongarm Master Si into giving up the identity of Yoda’s lover.”

Si stared at Gi-Ho over his glasses. “Strongarm me?”

“Oh, not literally,” Gi-Ho held up his hands, hoping to placate Simet. “Convince. Coerce. Blackmail. Whatever.”

Simet sipped his tea. “Blackmail? I’m nothing if not shameless. Whatever would Cin have on me for blackmail?”

Ospen surpressed a grin.

Gi-Ho shrugged. “You’re lineage brothers. I’m sure Yoda has told him _something_.”

“Assuming he _did_ have something on me, _Yoda_ would certainly have something worse on both of us.”

“Good point,” Gi-Ho turned back to Nori. “You really think we lost?”

Nori looked down the table at Yoda, then narrowed her eyes at Simet. “I don’t know. Master Yoda is being very secretive, but Master Silvanus won _his_ bet with Cin.”

Si raised an eyebrow, amused. “Perhaps we didn’t make the same bet.”

Nori looked him in the eye, trying to read him in the Force. It was like trying to read a duracrete wall. “Damn,” she glanced back at Gi-Ho. “Nothing.”

“I think Cin was just messing with us.”

Nori shrugged. “Nothing’s been confirmed.”

“Not yet,” Si agreed.

“You’re not going to say?” Gi-Ho asked. “Is that why Cin owes you money?” He crossed his arms, skeptical. “How could you collect then? I think they’re _both_ messing with us.”

“I don’t need to tell Cin, he has his own eyes and the Force to do it for me.”

“So the Force told you about . . . whatever you were betting on and told you it happened?” Gi-Ho asked. The kata master was strong in the Force, but had trouble following potentials and possible futures.

“No.” Simet’s tone was patient, not quite didactic. “I pay attention to what and who is around me, pay attention to what _could_ happen and then, if things change that make it very likely to happen, only then do I place a bet. Cin does the same.”

“But you’re better at it?” Nori asked, eyebrow raised.

“I was _this_ time,” Simet clarified.

Monti looked amused. “You young people should be old enough to know not to bet with Master Si.”

“I’ve been out of sight,” Si shrugged. “It’s easy to forget.”

Nori rolled her eyes. Gi-Ho snorted. Yaddle tried to follow their conversation, still intent on her goal.

Tahl picked up her fruit and felt it with her fingers, checking for bad spots, before she took her first bite. The trees these specific fruits grew on were in the kitchen gardens, so they were served extra fresh and did not need to be bruise resistant like fruit grown off-world.

“Were you able to make progress with that other problem with our mutual friend?” she asked as Master Yoda began peeling his own fruits. Yaddle ignored them as non-romantic issues were not of interest to her.

“Yes,” Yoda nodded. “Much better that is now. Got to the root of the problem I did.”

Vygor looked wary but said nothing. _He_ wasn’t allowed to discuss his patients, but Yoda certainly could.

“So you two are talking again?”

“Yes. A long talk we had. His fears understandable were, but unfounded they were. A few lessons his master had missed or done poorly. Corrected now it is.”

Tahl’s face indicated she was analyzing this carefully. “Which lessons exactly? I know there were some important ones that were skipped.”

Vygor gave Yoda a pointed look.

“This and that it was. A few different things. Related to what we know about already it was.”

“Were there any new surprises his master missed?”

Yoda did not completely stifle his laugh. “A surprise for me there certainly was, but new large lapses by his master were discovered not.”

“Good,” she nodded, taking another bite of fruit. “I was getting worried about him. He didn’t feel right in the Force and he wouldn’t let me help.”

Yoda patted her arm. “Worry not. Know he does that help you would have if aided him that would. Offer your help you did already. Turned you down he did but reflect badly on you this does not.”

Tahl snorted. She would be there for Obi-Wan no matter what he needed, but she had offered her assistance with something rather specific.

 _Something Qui-Gon Jinn had missed_.

She paused, feeling the Force and replaying Yoda’s discussion with Vygor. As an archivist, she had trained to remember details, even without context and now it was second nature to her, even if she had no real desire to snoop like Master Yaddle.

Obi-Wan _was_ one of Vygor’s patients. He had discussed this openly.

“Were you teaching him to crack cups, perchance?” she asked quietly. Yaddle was distracted talking to Piell and Tiin about an upcoming curriculum committee meeting.

“Hmm,” Yoda leaned close to speak quietly, peeking at Vygor. “Next time teach him to crack cups not I must.”

“Oh,” Tahl gasped in surprise. “Oh my.” She lowered her head, tears prickling her blind eyes. “That’s _wonderful_!” she yelled and then she turned to grab Yoda in a hug, lifting him right off the bench. “That’s wonderful and perfect and I’m so happy for you both!”

Everyone at the table turned to stare at them, Vygor slightly horrified, Yaddle’s eyes blazing at gossip missed.

Simet blinked at the Noorian woman squeezing the life out of his squirming master and turned back to Nori and Gi-Ho. “I expect that disclosure is imminent.”

“Tahl!” Yoda waved his hands and feet ineffectually, not wanting to use the Force and draw yet more attention. “Discreet we are trying to be!”

Tahl put him back down, her joy bright in the Force. “That’s just wonderful, just wonderful, you’re _perfect_ for each other.”

Yoda shifted self-consciously, adjusting his robes. “Going very well so far it is.”

Tahl reached out to touch his arm, sending approval and support through the Force. “He can trust you with his heart.”

“He can,” Yoda agreed.

Vygor stared at the table, determined to keep give away nothing, no matter what.

“Bother you the differences do not?” Yoda asked cautiously. Yaddle leaned in closer, in danger of overbalancing into Tahl’s lap.

“No!” Tahl squeezed his arm gently. “It’s an unusual choice for him, sure, but you’ve made it work before. And you already understand him and know his issues. I honestly can’t think of a better person to be his lover right now.”

Yaddle whined in frustration. Gi-Ho, Nori and Turvis were listening eagerly. Ospen seemed content to let it reveal itself in time, though he was confident this lover was _not_ one of his residents, and if Master Silvanus was supportive, he wasn’t concerned. Monti looked mildly interested, but more amused by his tablemate’s antics. Tiin didn’t seem to care while Piell gave Yaddle a stern warning look. Bes tried to be invisible, or at least look like he didn’t already know, not wanting to reveal the Grandmaster’s private life. Yaddle’s interrogations could be brutal.

Tahl squeezed his arm gently. “I’m very happy for you. You two can knock over my coat rack anytime.”

“Hmm,” Yoda gave Yaddle a narrow-eyed glare, before focusing on Tahl. “Work on that we will.” He lowered his voice. “Tell him not. Embarrassed by the pulse he was.”

Tahl snorted. “You _stud_ , you.”

Yoda coughed suspiciously. “Yes, well . . . when good the match is, fly sparks can.” He frowned. “Good it is that know you do so that surprised you are not.”

“Not just me.”

“Exactly.”

Yaddle growled in frustration. “Very annoying you are.”

Tahl turned toward Yaddle. “He’s just being protective. It would have taken a lot of bravery for this lover to take this step and we don’t want you teasing him.”

“Gentle teasing it is,” Yaddle protested.

“No,” Yoda asserted. “ _No teasing_. Still fragile it is.”

“No, it isn’t,” Simet called. “While the new relationship is still delicate, the bond is very strong, but I agree it’s nothing to tease about.”

Yaddle peered at Si, more wary of crossing him than pushing Yoda. “How strong is it?” she frowned. “As strong as with Elliot?”

Yoda openly scowled at her, not liking to make comparisons between his lovers, much less his romantic partners.

Simet used the Force to slide his plate away, then to bring his custard to sit between himself and Bes. “Stronger.”

Both Yoda and Vygor looked stunned by this pronouncement. Yoda had opted to take a few sessions after Master Dedrin joined the Force, so Vygor was very familiar with who Elliot had been. Yaddle looked thoughtful for a long moment, remembering exactly how long Elliot had been gone. It had been such a small moment in lives as long as theirs, but even she remembered their love and their bond with each other, beautiful despite its brevity. While she was somewhat open-minded for casual lovers, she rarely chose short-lived species as padawans as Yoda did. It was just too heart-breaking to see them grow old and die so soon. Oppo was still alive but getting frail, and she hadn’t realized Simet was already a centenarian, but he had always been the exception that proved the rule in many things. Yoda and Elliot had had a wonderful bond; she could only hope Yoda’s new lover lived a bit longer for his sake.

“Hmm. Well then, congratulate you I should. More serious this is than realized I had. Tease your lover I will not.” She tried to look dignified. “Tease you I still will.”

“Hmm,” Yoda put aside his empty soup bowl and peeled a second fruit. “Bear this I will if spare him you do.”

“Hmm, right Simet is if do that you will. Tell me who it is you will?”

“No!” Yoda huffed in annoyance. “Leave him alone you will if know who he is you do not.”

“Live on your floor I do. Find out I will.” She kept her tone quieter this time, less smug.

“She really will, Master Yoda,” Tahl sighed, before turning toward Yaddle. “You have to leave it alone and let it grow.”

“Do that I can.” Yaddle sounded a bit peeved. “Want Simet’s wrath I do not.” She looked over to see him and Bes sharing a custard, raising her brows slightly when Bes reached out with a napkin to wipe Simet’s chin. “Simet and Bes are . . .”

“Yes,” Tahl replied.

“Hmm, no wonder so smart-mouthed he is. Good for him that is, less grouchy he is. Even if a snotty boy he is.”

Tahl giggled. “Master Yaddle, developmentally he’s much older than you are.”

“Hmmph, only _one_ century he has lived.” She scowled at him. “Snotty boy!” He stuck his tongue out at her in return before speaking quietly with Bes. “Very snotty.”

Tahl chuckled. “He’s just being protective of both of them.”

Yaddle narrowed her eyes at Simet. “Hmm.” Protecting Yoda made sense, but who else would Simet feel so protective of? “A young lover this is?”

Even raised an eyebrow, then saluted Yoda again. Yoda shared a look with Vygor and then focused on his fruit. “Leave him alone you will.”

“He does have certain vulnerabilities,” Tahl explained.

Yaddle leaned over to stare at Yoda, examining him with the Force. “A good bond it _is_ ,” she declared, stunned. Several masters turned to Yoda curiously. Yoda rolled his eyes.

“It’s good to you happy, Master Yoda.” Tiin’s voice was deep, but he spoke quietly.

“Thank you I do.”

“Told you I did, tease your lover I will not.” Yaddle sounded a bit hurt. “Serious this is, see this I do.”

Tahl leaned against Yoda gently. “I think we do have to tell her.”

Yoda cut his eyes to Yaddle. “Says she does that tease him she won’t, but fully trust her I do not. Too easy it is for her. Teasing Simet she is and see him years she has not.”

“Master Si can handle it. They both know it.” Tahl sighed. “I’m more concerned she might say something to him by accident if she doesn’t know.”

Yoda glared at Yaddle suspiciously.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, Master,” Vygor sighed. “But that is a legitimate concern.”

“Hmm,” Yoda considered the matter.

“He’s already in a group she teases anyway, and she knows he’s your friend.”

Yaddle tried not to react to the small details slipping out.

“And Master Silvanus said the bond is strong,” Tahl continued.

Yoda sighed. “Think that handle her he can?” he asked Tahl, but also looked to Vygor for guidance.

“I think he can, if she agrees to be _gentle with him_.” Tahl glared in Yaddle’s general direction.

Yoda glanced at Vygor.

“It would probably be better for him if she finds out from you then to be subjected to her interrogation while she tries to figure it out.”

Yoda hissed at Yaddle, making his threat clear, before turning to Tahl. “Fine.”

Tahl patted him in reassurance before leaning in close to Yaddle, keeping her voice low. “It’s his Breggle buddy.”

The effect was instantaneous. Yaddle straightened up, eyes wide, stunned before her face crumpled and she made a gagging sound.

Everyone at the table turned to her in surprise.

“Kriff,” she turned back to Yoda. “Strange tastes you have.”

Yoda rolled her eyes. “Know of my tastes before now you have.”

“Hoped they had improved with time I did.” She looked across the table at Piell and Tiin. “Hear that you did? Fucking Kenobi he is.”

Saesee Tiin looked rather stunned. Even closed his eye and smacked himself firmly in the forehead.

“Tahl is correct,” Tiin spoke quietly to Yaddle. “You should _not_ tease him.”

“A nice enough boy he is, but _ugh_. Too _pink_ he is.”

“Pink?” Tahl asked.

“Very pink,” Yaddle confirmed.

“Bant never described him as ‘pink,’” Tahl reported. “She said the other humans considered him very attractive, but she couldn’t explain why.”

“You never had a chance to see him?” Vygor asked, trying to remember how long Tahl had been blind

“I met him just _after_ I was blinded. I probably _had_ seen him, but we were never introduced before then.”

“Ah,” Vygor nodded. “Well, he’s very fair-skinned, so his complexion can change drastically with blood-flow, and his hair has auburn highlights that are more obvious when it’s longer, and it can lighten to almost red with sun exposure, so that might be why Master Yaddle describes him a ‘pink.’”

“Yes,” Yaddle confirmed. “ _Pink_.”

“I suppose if one is green, that seems pink,” Tahl conceded. “And the rest? I’ve never heard him described by someone who wasn’t a fish. Or Qui-Gon.”

Yoda cracked up.

“Hmm,” Vygor took a moment to consider the question. “He’s lean, but fit, fine-featured, well-groomed, has an unusual eye color, and his face is very symmetrical.”

“Symmetrical?” Yaddle asked.

“Facial symmetry is very attractive in humans,” Vygor explained. “It indicates good fetal development and good genes.”

“Ah.” Her own people appreciated similar traits, though the face was somewhat less important than other features.

Tahl chuckled at Vygor’s description. “That’s very helpful, and yes, I’ve felt his face. It _is_ quite symmetrical.”

“Hmmm, yes,” Yoda smiled to himself. “The rest of him also symmetrical is.”

“Master!” Tahl giggled, slightly scandalized.

Yaddle did not hide her disgust well. “Tall, pink and hairy. _Bleh_.”

Even and Tiin tried to stifle their own laughter. Even reached out and patted Yoda’s hand in support.

Yoda leveled a look at Yaddle. “Bah. Talk so much you should not. Have sex with Lanniks you do!” Even froze, then hunched down and tried not to get noticed.

Yaddle’s jaw dropped, apparently unaware Yoda had known that. “Know now I do where came from Simet’s smart mouth did!”

“Blame me you cannot. Had it before he did.” He gestured at Even. “The same colors as humans Lanniks are. Have hair they do. Different in size they are, much else not.”

Yaddle huffed, not able to argue against him. “Sexy ears they have,” she said at last. “Have this humans do not.”

Even blushed, kept his gaze on the table, and kept his ears close to his head.

“Your own tastes you have, my own tastes I have. Mock you for your tastes I do not.”

Yaddle shook her head. “Still weird you _are_.”

Yoda blew a raspberry at her, making Tahl laugh.

On the other side of the table, Nori and Gi-Ho struggled to make out Yoda, Yaddle and Tahl’s conversation.

“Drat,” Gi-Ho grumbled. “I missed it. All I heard was Yaddle complaining about someone being too pink, and something about Lanniks.” They both looked at Master Piell carefully. He was rather _pink_ at the moment, was male, and was about Yoda’s size.

“It’s not Even,” Simet told them. “He’s dating Yaddle. May the Force be with him.”

“Oh,” Nori filed away that little tidbit. “Well, the bet wasn’t over Master Piell, so it’s still on.”

“Hello, Masters, Brother Ospen.”

They all looked up to see Knight Loris standing behind them, balancing on her cane, and Sister Drish behind her, holding their trays. “May we squeeze in?”

“By all means, Loris, but be aware, there is hot gossip afoot.” Monti slid a bit closer to Bes to give Loris enough room to get on the bench, aware her illness must be flaring up if she needed the cane.

Sister Drish put down the trays, then came to the other side to sit next to Ospen. “More gossip? Really?”

“The same gossip,” Si explained. “It’s just taken time to trickle out.”

Drish chuckled. “I take it the lot of you are mature enough to not need three days of meditation to recover from the shock of learning the Grandmaster has a love life?”

Ospen chuckled. “Is that what Brother Trose was going on about?”

“Yes,” Drish confirmed. “I still don’t know if the trauma was because Grandmaster Yoda is still sexually active or because of his choice of bedpartners, but you know how Brother Trose is. He gets overly bothered by things that don’t involve him.”

Ospen shrugged. “If Master Silvanus isn’t bothered, I’m certainly not.” He blanched as he realized what he had just said. “I’m sorry, Master Silvanus, I—”

“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t a secret.” Si rolled his eyes. “I don’t flaunt it, but I have never hidden my choice in lovers. I just thought it might make the clergy uncomfortable, so I didn’t tend to openly discuss it.” He cleared his throat. “I did think I was more discreet than I apparently was.”

Ospen waved his hand to show it wasn’t a big deal to him either. “We try to keep tabs on who is with who to keep track of residents and avoid problems or security alerts, but you’ve always been polite, Master Silvanus.”

“Why would Master Silvanus care?” Gi-Ho asked.

Nori rolled her eyes. “Read between the lines, Gi-Ho. He and Yoda must have been having relations.”

Gi-Ho looked doubtful.

“No,” Si corrected. “Master and I _still_ have an intimate relationship. Bes has been very understanding.”

Bes shrugged. “I can share. And you make each other happy.”

“He’s messing with us,” Gi-Ho insisted.

Nori shook her head at the apparently exciting soap opera that was life in the rest home. “So who’s this new competition for Master Yoda’s sweet lizard loving?”

Loris shook her head, giggling. Simet and Yoda she could understand, but she couldn’t imagine who else might want to get naked with the Grandmaster.

“It’s not a competition. Master and I enjoy a loving but casual relationship and have off and on, for many years. His new lover is a romantic partner. I’m very happy for him.”

“Ah,” Ospen nodded in understanding. “Wonderful.” It sounded as if he would _not_ have to console anyone other than Brother Trose.

“It is. You might be a little disappointed, but in the end, it’s for the best.”

Drish snickered into her soup.

Ospen looked flabbergasted. “Why would _I_ be disappointed?”

Simet folded his arms on the table, tucking his shaking hands into his sleeves. “Because if I’m not mistaken, you were hoping he would join the monastery.”

“I was?” Ospen looked puzzled.

“Who was joining the monastery?” Turvis asked, equally confused. He tended to keep up with clergy scuttlebutt, so if anything had happened, he should have known about it.

Drish caught Master Si’s eye and cracked up.

Gi-Ho elbowed Nori. “We didn’t lose,” he grinned. “There is no way in Sith Hell he’d be a monk.”

“You’d be surprised,” Simet warned him.

“I think we need to ask,” Nori conceded.

“Did you catch it?” Gi-Ho asked Monti. “We were too far away to hear.”

“No,” Monti chuckled. He turned and leaned over to speak past Loris. “Master Tiin, are the rest of us allowed to know?”

Tiin chuckled and turned to relay the message.

Abruptly, Yaddle stood up on the bench and glared at Simet. “Thought you knew I did!”

“I do,” Simet assured her. “I wouldn’t tell without permission.”

Yaddle looked as if she didn’t quite believe him. Simet had an impenetrable sabaac face. “Out the secret is now.”

“It’s slowly creeping out,” Simet agreed.

Tiin turned back to Monti. “Master Yoda says he’s not going to stop Master Smartmouth if he wants to tell, but if any of you tease his new lover, he’ll personally stomp you into the practice mats.”

Turvis chuckled, amused by the threat. Gi-Ho and Nori were properly cowed.

Ospen sipped his tea, then smiled good-naturedly. He of course hoped Master Turvis might join the brothers and sisters when he fully retired, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who might be taking vows soon. And if Turvis were dating Yoda, he would have told him.

Simet caught his eye. “Quack.”

Ospen’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

Simet looked at Gi-Ho. “Quack.” Gi-Ho shook his head in denial.

Simet looked Nori in the eye. “Quack.” Monti stared at him, mildly confused.

“Kriff!” Nori slammed her palm on the tabletop in frustration. “How the Sith Hell did he _know_?”

“But he’s Yoda’s Duckling!” Gi-Ho protested. “A cute, fuzzy, fluffy, baby duckling!”

“He _was_ a duckling,” Simet corrected. “ _Now_ he is a capable, talented, brilliant young knight.”

“What’s with the quacking?” Turvis asked.

“And who is this duckling?” Monti added.

Simet smirked at the lot of them. “Yoda’s Duckling, perhaps better known as Knight Kenobi. We need to find him a better warrior name.”

Monti blinked in surprise. “Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Yes,” Simet confirmed.

“Not Obi-Wan.” Turvis looked vaguely horrified. “I could have sworn he would join the monastery eventually.”

“I did wonder the same when I first met him,” Ospen agreed. “But he seemed quite content as a knight, so I thought perhaps he’d retire as one.”

“Really?” asked Nori. “We always thought he’d be a knight. He was so dedicated to his saberwork.”

“And his katas,” Gi-Ho chimed in.

“I can’t say I thought either way, but now that I think about it, he was very interested in the non-combat defenses against Sith and Dark Side attacks. I thought it was because of his interactions with Jinn’s last apprentice, but some of those do come from monastic traditions.”

“You’re not the only one to think so, Brother Ospen.” Drish piped up. “I thought he felt like a monk when he was an infant, but Master Yoda insisted he should be trained for knighthood and thought that he may have been a monk in some previous incarnation.”

“I agree,” Simet nodded. “There have been indications of this since then.”

“He was very fascinated by the monastic traditions and practices,” Turvis admitted.

“Why do you think he was a monk before?” Ospen asked.

Simet chuckled into his tea. “Because I’m old enough to have seen the signs before, _and_ I have my suspicions that I’ve met him before. One of the benefits of being a fossil and a well-traveled one. But it’s not just my opinion. Brother Artin claims that when he was reciting a healing chant during his vigil, young Knight Kenobi started to join in while he was waking up. Creeped out poor Brother Artin until I explained why that can happen.”

Sister Drish cracked up, holding her napkin up to her face. “Definitely a monk once.”

“Probably more than once.” Simet sipped his tea.

“You really think you’ve met him before?” Ospen asked.

Simet shrugged. “I have a theory. Time will tell, or not.”

Bes looked from Ospen to Si, startled at his lover’s quiet assertion. He had never heard Simet discuss reincarnation at all before now, even in the abstract, so it was very strange to hear him speak of it as something he not only believed in but had witnessed. Not for the first time he suspected Si’s true power and strength in the Force was much greater than he let on.

“Is it anyone I knew?” Ospen asked.

“I don’t think so, but some at this table would have. As I said, I’m not sure yet.”

Gi-Ho shook his head. “Can we get back to why you seem to think Knight Kenobi is . . . doing the nasty with the Grandmaster?”

Simet raised an eyebrow. “I can tell you from experience, it’s _not_ nasty. Quite invigorating, actually. But to answer your question, there has been a potential between them for a long time. However, it only recently started to become more active, maturing into more than just deep friendship.”

“How long?” Gi-Ho demanded.

Simet caught Drish’s eye. The nun shrugged.

“Sister Drish claims they first made friends when he was an infant. This has been years in the making.”

“He always was a skilled and dedicated student,” Monti reported. “Very serious, took his responsibilities seriously. Very mature.” He glanced at Yoda. “Older than his years.”

“He’s an old soul,” Simet agreed as he pulled out his comm, flicked it on, put it on the table, then began typing out a message telekinetically. Gi-Ho watched, fascinated at Si’s casual level of control.

Across the commissary, Cin Drallig paused in the food line when his comm beeped. Balancing his tray on one hand, he pulled it from his belt and sighed as he read the message.

“Everything okay?” Qui-Gon Jinn asked from behind him in line.

“I’m being summoned,” Cin explained, chuckling to himself. “I lost a bet and Master Silvanus is calling it in.”

Qui-Gon snorted. “At least I’m not the only one to lose a skirmish with the esteemed master.”

“You are not,” Cin shook his head. “Fortunately, I can afford the loss.”

“I’m still smarting,” Qui-Gon admitted.

“He doesn’t hold a grudge,” Cin assured him. “He does genuinely hope you learned from the experience. Monti also hopes you’re still willing to help with his classes, as am I.” Cin picked his protein entrée and extra vegetables. “Your strategy did have flaws in your last fight, but you’re still one of the best swordsmen in the Order. While Ataru isn’t a sufficient attack form, it can be used well in combination and it is aggressive but requires more physical control and can be a psychologically safer option than Djem So for some Jedi. Even if you aren’t able to physically engage in Ataru now, you have a thorough and excellent understanding of the form.”

“Thank you.” Qui-Gon was quite honestly flattered.

“We’d appreciate if you keep coming to clinic for now. As for the rest, I know you’re itching to return to the field, but if you do want to be involved in some short-term teaching projects, we have several that might interest you.”

“I’m not ready for full field work,” Qui-Gon admitted. “I might be.”

“There’s a curriculum planning meeting next week. Master Monti and Master Si are going to present their research and several other instructors are outlining new courses. You should come, see what sparks your interest. Rence is designing an alternate weapons workshop.”

“I think I might like that.” Qui-Gon sounded surprised.

“Good,” Cin nodded. “I’ll send you the information.”

“Thanks.”

They stopped talking as they reached the credit line, letting the cashier ring them up and charge them. Cin began walking toward Tahl’s table, but paused, waiting for Qui-Gon to catch up.

“Qui-Gon, I know we’ve had our differences, so I want you to know I mean this as a friend. You do _not_ want to sit at that table today.”

Qui-Gon scanned the table. Tahl was there, and Yoda, and if he wasn’t mistaken, so was that _therapist boss_ who apparently hated his guts. (He was starting to suspect he was in fact Obi-Wan’s therapist). He didn’t have a particular grudge with either Tiin, nor Piell, beyond them being Council members, and he _did_ want to speak with Master Monti in general, but—

_Oh._

“Is that Master _Silvanus_?” Mace Windu appeared at Qui-Gon’s elbow, looking incredulous. The master in question gestured to make a point, his characteristic tremor on full display.

“It is,” Cin confirmed. “And he’s in rare form.”

“I think I’ll go sit elsewhere,” Qui-Gon began looking for another table.

“I think I’ll join you,” Mace noted Simet looked rather gleeful. That was always dangerous. “I’ve been meaning to get your opinion on the latest actions taken by the Trade Federation. Since the Naboo Invasion, we’ve been keeping a closer eye on them.”

“That’s a good idea.” Qui-Gon gave Master Silvanus one last look and tried not to shudder. “Let’s go do that.”

“I’ll talk to you later, Master Jinn.” Cin nodded at Mace. “Master Windu.”

“Good to see you, Cin.” With a dismissive wave to Cin that became an inviting gesture to Qui-Gon, Mace led the way to an empty table. Cin sighed, then walked over to Master Yoda’s table like a man going to his execution.

“Ah, there is our esteemed Battlemaster!” Simet gave him a broad grin. “Pay up!”

Cin turned to Nori, who pulled a roll of Temple coins off her belt, counted out the amount she owed Cin, and handed it over with a scowl.

“How did you know?” she demanded. “ _How_?”

Cin counted the coins himself, put half of them in his own belt, then set the rest in front of Simet. “There were signs,” he replied.

Si snatched up the coins, then raised them up to his eyes with the Force, counting them, then deposited them in front of Brother Ospen, to the monk’s astonishment. “That’s only half.” Simet raised an eyebrow.

“Gi-Ho hasn’t paid up yet,” Cin explained.

“I still think he’s messing with us. I want more corroborative evidence.”

“Such as?” Simet asked. “It’s not as if Kenobi is going to be birthing any little green lizards.”

Nori grimaced. “Eww.”

Gi-Ho rolled his eyes. “We could just ask the duck.”

“And risk Yoda’s wrath?” Nori shuddered.

Cin snickered. “Protective as usual.”

“Very,” Si agreed.

“And why is Cin giving you _our_ money?” Gi-Ho demanded. “Did he play both sides? That’s . . . unfair and un-Jedi-like.”

Simet snorted. “As I told you, I suspect Cin’s bet with me was not the same bet he had with you.” He nodded at Cin. “Very clever.”

Cin shrugged. “I never even intended to bet with them,” he admitted. “I started to tell them what you had said, and before I could even get around to explaining _our_ bet, they proposed one of their own.”

Si gave another of his Sithly chuckles.

“So what _were_ you and Master Si better on?” Nori asked.

Cin looked very amused. “I bet with you and Gi-Ho that Knight Kenobi and Master Yoda would become lovers. That one was getting fairly certain. I bet with Simet about the timing. We were both in agreement that it was coming soon. I just didn’t think it would be _this_ soon.” He leaned back and called down the table. “Master!”

Yoda peered out from behind Tahl.

“You _dog_! I thought it would be at least another year!”

Yoda stared at him, slack-jawed. “Saw this also you did?”

Cin rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He sat upright. “Very obvious. _If_ you know what to look for.”

Simet snorted.

Bes looked as mystified as Gi-Ho. “What was obvious?”

“Yeah, Cin.” Gi-Ho still had doubts. “What _was_ obvious?”

Cin cut his sandwich in half and inserted his straw into his drink. “Well, we both know Master wouldn’t have done anything when Kenobi was his half-padawan, he was much too emotionally vulnerable then. But the Breggle training was a pretty big clue. I don’t know what tipped Simet off.”

“Breggle?” Gi-Ho asked. “Yoda likes to sleep with his Breggle partners?”

This set off a wave of laughter as the message was relayed to Yoda, who rolled his eyes.

“Seduce all my Breggle partners I do not!” he declared.

“Of course you don’t,” Simet agreed. “But many of your romantic partners were people you regularly played Breggle with.”

Yoda gave them both a doubtful look.

“Dedrin,” Cin replied.

“Stazel. Graelen. Risa,” Simet answered.

“Kretch.” Yaddle wrinkled her nose. “At least pink she was not.”

Yoda opened his mouth, then slowly closed it, not able to argue there wasn’t a pattern there. “Universal it is not.”

“No,” Cin agreed. “It’s not universal, but it definitely became more obvious when, hmm, how did he put it?” Cin frowned, trying to remember. “ _Oh, Master Yoda is teaching me Breggle, but I only know a little._ ” Simet, Monti and Gi-Ho laughed at Cin’s cracking falsetto, as if Knight Kenobi were still a gangly adolescent. Cin cleared his throat and leaned in to glare at Yoda. “He said that in _class_. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep a straight face when he said that? And he was looking at me with those big, earnest, innocent, new Knight eyes.” He shook his head. “He had absolutely no clue.”

Simet cackled, as did Monti. Bes giggled a bit. _He_ really didn’t use Breggle as a means of seduction, but he could see how it could work, the game requiring the players to trust one another and to open their minds. Once that closeness was established, it could easily grow into more, romantic or otherwise.

“He really didn’t, poor young man,” Simet sighed. “Tied himself in knots.”

“Oh, I _know_ ,” Cin agreed. “Fortunately, Master Yoda got him straightened out before he took it out on our training droids.”

Nori snickered, despite herself. She was out some cash, but if Yoda and Kenobi were happy, it was worth it. “That could have been a lot of droids.”

Gi-Ho was looking back and forth between Simet, Cin and Yoda, as if this were all a ploy to separate him from his money. “Okay, Breggle playing in someone his age _is_ unusual, but that just shows Kenobi is a bit strange, not that he’s necessarily a lizard lover.”

Tiin covered a laugh with a cough. Piell’s cheeks pinked again and Yaddle gave him a suspicious look.

“When did you start thinking this bizarre, interspecies romance could become a _thing_?” Gi-Ho challenged Si.

The venerable, former Battlemaster sipped his tea, a smug look on his face. “Oh, it’s only been blatantly obvious for the past few months or so, but there were indications when I first met him.”

Ospen frowned in confusion. “When Master Yoda first brought him to the South Terrace?” he asked, trying to remember. “When the Grandmaster introduced us, I could have sworn he was considering the monastery, and Sister Nellise and one of the brothers asked if he was a candidate to become a novice.” He gestured at Master Turvis. “And Master Turvis had told me about him as a potential monk when he was taking his classes.”

Gi-Ho looked just as disturbed by Kenobi’s potential for celibacy as his choice in sex partners.

Simet raised an eyebrow. “I already explained why he felt monkish to you, and I admit that retiring as a monk was still a distinct possibility then, but his romantic potential was already starting to flourish, even then. But that’s not the first time I had met him.”

“It wasn’t?” Nori asked, surprised. Obi-Wan was too young to have had Master Si as an instructor, and while most of the staff who taught initiates and junior padawans had been familiar with him, with Qui-Gon Jinn so controlling, Cin hadn’t actually met him until his evaluation to be raised to Senior Padawan. Despite his talents, Laelen had barely known he existed, describing him as merely _competent_.

“No,” Simet chuckled. “I had met him before, when he was a teenager and was following Master around like a baby duck, hence the nickname.”

Gi-Ho looked skeptical. “Wait a minute, you’re trying to say you knew Knight Kenobi was going to sleep with Grandmaster Yoda when he was a _teenager_?” The rest of the table fell silent.

“No, I didn’t _know_ anything. I said the potential was there, even back then. Master Yoda is a moral and ethical person. He certainly would not have acted on that potential with a sixteen-year-old boy, even if he hadn’t been utterly oblivious to the obvious signs.”

“Signs?” Yaddle asked. She still considered Simet a child but was well aware that he was stronger in the Force than he let on.

“No signs there were!” Yoda insisted.

Simet caught Cin’s eye.

Cin shrugged. “I didn’t meet him until he was eighteen and fully under his master’s care again.”

“Just because you were utterly blind to them Master doesn’t mean they weren’t there.”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Recent signs missed I did. Admit that I do. No signs back then there were.”

“Some of them were subtle,” Si conceded. “But others were not. I didn’t call him your Duckling just because he followed you around adoringly. Even back then, we could have spelled it with an F instead.”

Yoda whirled to face him, outraged, while several others at the table gasped, scandalized.

“Touch him I would have _never_!”

“Of course not,” Simet reassured him. “I already stated that quite clearly. But the potential between you already existed long before you were petting and manhandling him on the South Terrace when he was a young knight Cin had beaten up. The potential was small, but very much present when he was living with you at sixteen. I saw it with my own eyes and in the Force.”

Yoda was somewhat mollified by Simet’s assertion that he would not have been inappropriate with a child, but still skeptical. “See signs of this I did not.”

Simet rolled his eyes. “I know, which was hilarious because even his bone-headed peers were picking up on it subconsciously and ridiculing him for it.”

Yoda felt his jaw drop. He knew Obi-Wan’s agemates had been both jealous and intimidated by his close friendship with his young charge, and had implied they had engaged in all manner of inappropriate behavior behind closed doors, but Obi-Wan had never complained, still preferring to be mocked for that closeness than to go without it. Yoda had always dismissed it as normal, if obnoxious, teen cruelty. Had the bullies been picking up something in the Force he had missed?

“What signs see you did?” Yoda demanded.

Simet gave him a slightly smug, but mostly patient look. “ _Master_ , even you aren’t this dense. I called him your Duckling for a reason. He followed you around like a shadow, even when his peers were teasing him about it.”

“His training bond blocked was. Desperately lonely he was.”

“He was not,” Simet disagreed. “Because he was following you. Sure, he missed his master, and yes, he was very worried about his status, but when I _did_ get him to talk, he barely mentioned Jinn. Instead, he talked about _you_.”

“Living with me he was. Knew he did that my friend you were.”

“Yes. But he could sense you coming from a distance, and he followed you around like a baby duck.”

Yoda rolled his eyes. “Do that many younglings do.”

Simet shook his head. When his master chose denial, he committed fully. “Master, when six-year-olds follow you around, it’s because you are bright and shiny in the Force and they can hear your soul-song. When _sixteen-year-olds_ follow you around, even when they are mercilessly mocked for it and continue to do so, it’s because a _nascent bond is forming,_ and it feels good.”

The whole table fell deadly silent.

“Oh.” No one was sure who said it, but they all felt it. That was a pretty big sign.

Yoda looked at Simet, scrutinizing him in the Force. He knew his former padawan would not joke about such a thing, and he was one of the few people in his life who would be close enough and strong enough to see a potential like that so early, when the chances were still so small. He was also one of the few smart enough to deduce it indirectly. Taken together, Simet was still a force to be reckoned with.

 _A nascent bond._ There were so many implications, so many possibilities layered into that statement. Their bond _was_ strong, deep, solid. Yoda wondered how many times Simet had called him a dumbass last week.

“And he’s utterly your type.” Simet broke the tension, his subtle diplomatic skills still sharp.

Cin snorted, followed by Tiin, then Tahl laughing, and then Yaddle cackled, and the whole table cracked up in mirth, even if they weren’t sure why they were laughing.

“Have a type I do not!” Yoda protested, but it was friendly, keeping with the teasing spirit.

“Yes, you do,” Simet retorted.

“I do not!”

“Yes, you _do_ ,” Simet, Cin and Yaddle answered in unison.

“What is this type you think I have?” Yoda demanded.

“Monkish,” Simet replied, making Ospen gasp in laughter. “Monkish, studious, quiet and fierce.”

“Definitely,” Cin chimed in. “You do have a pattern, Master.”

“What pattern do you see? Very young he is. Very athletic he is. A diplomat he is. Unusual for me these are.”

“He’s not _retired_ , Master. That’s hardly a good argument. He’s quite similar to your other romantic partners, his pink hue notwithstanding.”

“Such as? Like who he is?”

“Dedrin,” Cin replied.

“Stazel. Hooli. Niel,” Simet answered.

“Brother Maatalous,” Yaddle rolled her eyes.

Yoda gasped. “Touch him I never did! Break a clergy’s vows I would never!”

“ _The_ Brother Maatalous?” Monti asked. “The founder of the _Agri Corps_?”

“Yes,” Yaddle confirmed. “Still in the Temple monastery he was when a novice padawan I was. Like Ospen and Turvis they were, playing Breggle, sharing meditations, and in denial! _Oh no, dating we are not! Very celibate Maati is!_ Denial!”

Turvis blushed fiercely, but Ospen suddenly understood why Yoda had always encouraged the friendship.

“Sexual it was not,” Yaddle explained. “But romantic, hmm, a little bit.”

“So, despite keeping his vows, he was still Master’s type?” Simet asked.

Yaddle rolled her eyes. “Utterly.” She looked at Yoda, then shuddered. “Probably where your taste for monkish humans you got.”

“No, it isn’t,” Simet asserted. “That came earlier.”

Yoda sent him a warning look.

“What do you mean?” Turvis asked. Yaddle also seemed very curious.

Simet cut his eyes to Yoda, telling him to trust him, despite appearances. “His first crush was on a monk, long before Master Yaddle was a twinkling in her parents’ eyes, much less a novice padawan.”

Ospen cracked up, as did Turvis, Monti, Tiin and Even. Yaddle looked gleeful.

“Sew up your lips on that smart mouth I should!” Yoda called back. Even Bes laughed at that one.

“A monk?’ Turvis couldn’t stop giggling.

“He grew up in a monastery,” Simet explained. “Everyone he knew was celibate or underage.”

“That’s slightly more understandable,” Ospen conceded.

“And none of them were reptiles. It’s very understandable.”

Yoda looked very put upon.

Bes leaned in close to whisper in Si’s ear. “Why are you teasing your master so much?” Si could be grouchy, but he usually wasn’t needling.

Si caught Yoda’s eye, getting a small half-smile back. “What Duckling?” he whispered back.

Bes looked around the table. With the focus on Yoda, no one was talking about Knight Kenobi anymore. Bes began to suspect Yoda’s protests were more for show than he was letting on.

“Mammal or not, you definitely have a type, Master.”

“Other lovers I have had, like that they were all not.”

“He doesn’t go for the nunnish ones?” Loris asked, catching Sister Drish’s eye.

“No,” Yaddle shook her head. “Adventurous women he likes.”

Yoda sighed. “Many different lovers I have had in eight hundred years. Fit a type they do not.”

“Yan!” Simet called, and just behind Ospen and Turvis the man in question froze, closing his eyes and releasing his annoyance to the Force. He had _thought_ a visit to Archives and a quick lunch with Jocasta would not risk him crossing paths with the infamous (and ancient) Master Simet Silvanus, but the Force was apparently _not_ with him in this.

He turned, not able to keep the distaste off his face. Simet still looked disgustingly young for his age as he tucked his jittering hands into his sleeves.

“Yes?”

“The Force has blessed us, indeed. You are just the man to settle a question for us.”

Yan Dooku, Count of Serrano and former Jedi Master was quite sure Simet had absolutely no interest in his opinions, though he felt no ill intent. Of course, one never could with Simet.

“What is it?” He let his impatience bleed into his voice. Jocasta was giving Simet a sour look.

“Does Master have a type?” Simet grinned up at him, his sharp white teeth prominent.

Yan blinked. “Does Master Yoda have a type of what?”

Simet’s expression never wavered. “Does Master Yoda have a dating type? A type of romantic partner? I say he does, but Master denies it.”

Yan blinked slowly to cover an undignified eyeroll. Simet was still clearly just as shameless and vapid as he’d ever been. Yan looked over at all the eager and mirthful faces, including Cin’s. Surely Jedi had more important matters they should be spending their time on.

He faced his former master, biting back a sigh. “Master, as much as it pains me to agree with _anything_ Master Silvanus has to say, in this trivial matter he is correct. You most definitely have a _type_.”

Yoda looked stunned, but it wasn’t clear if it was because of the opinion or because Yan had actually agreed with Simet.

“You have two very distinctive types, in fact,” Yan continued. “You tend to court wild and uncouth women and bookish, studious men who act like monks.”

The whole table burst out laughing again while Yan looked uncomfortable and Jocasta seemed ready to reprimand the whole lot of them.

“Thank you, Yan. As always, your input is valued and enlightening.” Simet gave him another toothy grin. Like a shark.

Yan looked at him curiously, wondering exactly how much power still lurked behind those impenetrable shields. Bes didn’t look up, keenly aware that Simet had put up a strong, defensive wall, despite the light banter.

“I’m sure.”

“Oh, look!” Jocasta pointed at another table. “There’s Qui-Gon and Mace.” She glared at Simet, fed up with padawan rivalry in a man his age. “Let’s go sit with them.”

Yan did brighten at the sight of his former padawan. “It is.” He spared Simet one more annoyed glance before smiling at Yoda. “It was good to see you, Master.” He adjusted his fine robes, his Visitor Pass spoiling the fashionable silhouette. “We should have tea sometime.”

“Yes, visit you should before return to Serrano you do.”

“That would be lovely.” He nodded his head, no longer a Jedi and certainly no longer bowing to any of them. “I’ll consult with your assistant.” He then turned, took Jocasta’s arm and led her to Jinn and Windu’s table.

Simet’s eyes never left Yan’s back until after he had sat down, far out of earshot, and only then did he relax his defenses. He did not know why the Force prompted him to hide the identity of Yoda’s new lover from Yan specifically, but he could feel a blaster bolt had been dodged for now. Yan was getting better at masking the Darkness within him, but he was forgetting to feign the Light. He would bear watching.

Monti caught Simet’s eye, also picking up on the Darkness, trusting enough to follow Simet’s lead, if not able to fully follow his reasoning. “So what was Brother Maatalous really like? The history books focus more on his work formalizing and industrializing Jedi agricultural outreach, not his personality.”

“Oh, such a _dork_ he was!” Yaddle chirped. “Sit on the roof and watch the stars they would. Even their _not dates_ boring were.”

“A very good friend he was!” Yoda protested.

“ _Friend_?” Yaddle scoffed.

Across the commissary, Qui-Gon Jinn was cautiously delighted to welcome his old master and his still discreet lover to their table.

“Are you alright, Master?” Qui-Gon asked as they settled down. “You looked rather annoyed.”

Mace privately wondered how Qui-Gon could tell. Yan always seemed vaguely annoyed when he wasn’t very annoyed.

“Simet spotted me and just _had_ to ask me something. It was slightly less inappropriate than he usually is, but not by much.”

Windu grinned at the familiar act of Yan and Simet reverting to teenagers around each other, then glared back toward Simet. The master was watching Yan intently, observing him in the Force. Mace kept his grin plastered in place, even as he felt the small shatterpoint. The great Battlemaster had just pulled a feignt, not a trivial attack. He glanced back at Yan Dooku, hiding his new alertness behind casual pleasantries, acutely feeling when Simet finally dropped his gaze.

“Well, you know how they get on the South Terrace.” Mace tried to sound unconcerned. “Though they’ve been quite rowdy since Cin warned us away. What were they discussing?”

Yan raised his eyes skyward, too dignified to actually roll them. “Master Yoda’s love life.”

“Oh.” Qui-Gon made a rather disgusted face.

Mace raised his eyebrows. “Cin is a good man. Very self-sacrificing.”

“Yes,” Yan agreed. “Do tell me what deep and scintillating topic you’re discussing over here.”

“The Trade Federation,” Mace replied. “They haven’t engaged in any new martial tactics lately, but their political maneuvers may be predictive of future attempts. We’re trying to figure out what they are planning next.”

“That’s a far better use of your time,” Yan praised.

“What brings you back to your old life?” Qui-Gon asked. “I honestly didn’t think you would ever come back, even just to visit.”

“Nonsense, Padawan. I left the Order. I didn’t forget my old friends. I needed some information that the Exploration Corps is the most accurate source for.”

Jocasta preened.

“And you know I do still visit with Master Yoda, and I do like to honor Syfo-Dyas in the Hall of Remembrance, whenever I get the chance.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Yan. I knew you were close.” Mace nodded, respectfully.

Yan sighed, catching Jocasta’s eye. “It was a loss to us all.”

Mace kept his sabaac face firmly in place, wondering why this felt like a lie.

Back at Yoda’s table, the Grandmaster recognized the signs that his eldest living padawan was playing some kind of long game, though he couldn’t see what it was yet. He had learned long ago that Simet was _not_ the contentious party in his and Yan’s relationship, and if he was rising to the bait (or wielding it), he had a very good reason. They would discuss it later, no doubt, but with Simet it may very well be much later. Regardless, he was very glad Bes has been opening up Simet’s world and getting him out of his comfort zone. He would _not_ have wanted his boys meeting up when Simet was still in the depths of his depression. If Yan had cut him while he was vulnerable, it would be a very long time before he crawled back out of that hole, if he ever did. Simet engaging Yan by choice was a testament to his mental health and confidence, even more so than his eating publicly in the commissary. He wasn’t the only one enjoying the blessings of a potential almost missed.

Loris leaned close to Monti, holding up her comm. “Is this the Brother Maa-something Yaddle was talking about?”

Monti nodded, wiping his mouth. “Yes, that’s him. Brother Maatalous, founder of the Planetary Food Security Mission which ultimately became the Agri Corps.”

Loris put her comm in the center of the table and projected the hologram, rendering the long-dead monk in the air, three feet high. He was human, tall, thin and lanky, his hair short and gray, with thick reading glasses and an Adam’s apple prominent enough to make one wonder if it was in fact a small goiter. The resemblance to Eliot Dedrin was unmistakable.

“Dorkier than I remember he looks,” Yaddle shook her head. “Thick as thieves they were.”

Ospen and Drish made a sign of respect at the holo. The brother was still held in high esteem by the clergy, even centuries after his death. Yoda’s expression was a bit soft.

“Other than the neck, he could be Dedrin’s brother,” Cin scrutinized the holo. “Is there a connection?”

“I don’t think so,” Simet was feeling the Force. “Eliot _was_ bookish, certainly, but I never got any indication he had been a monk, unlike Moosie, who remembered and spoke of it openly. The resemblance is physical, but not more I think, at least to Eliot.” He cocked his head. “I do think this one has returned to us, more than once.”

“Really?” Ospen asked. He had never known Master Silvanus to be familiar with reincarnation, but the man had many hidden depths. “Who?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. And I haven’t lived quite long enough to know.”

Cin caught Si’s eye, aware he was holding something back. There was a very quiet clicking sound as a message was typed into Simet’s comm, unnoticed by their tablemates. A moment later Cin’s comm beeped.

_WRAITH: Master doesn’t have a type. Master has a soulmate._

Cin glanced back at the holo of the monk, slowly rotating until Loris turned it off.

_WRAITH: A MONKISH soulmate._

Soulmate was kind of a trite term Jedi rarely used, but when they did, the _mate_ tended to refer to close companions, rather than lovers specifically.

Cin frowned. He wouldn’t have thought to describe Kenobi as monkish himself, but he did fit the type. He was too old to have been a reincarnation of Dedrin; clearly Cin would have to talk to Si more. Many would assume past lives had no relation to saber work, but for Jedi who returned (those they had good records for anyway), the influence of previous incarnations could be surprisingly significant. Kenobi was thriving in Soresu, but it would soon be time start considering a tertiary form to supplement his Ataru as he got older. He did not want to trap that talent in such an athletic form as he aged or if he was injured like his master.

“A very platonic romance it was,” Yaddle told a rapt audience, still recounting stories of Yoda’s friendship with Brother Maatalous. “Watching them so irritating was. Like a bad holo-drama they were, always waiting for them to kiss we were. Do so they never would. So frustrating it was.”

Ospen gave Turvis a raised eyebrow. “I don’t want to kiss you.”

“Thank the Force,” Turvis replied.

“Bah,” Yoda scoffed. “Like that we were not. Color your view your teenage hormones have.”

“Adolescents do tend to read more than exists in romantic intent,” Vygor reported.

Yaddle gave him an incredulous look. “See it in the Force I could. A horndog for the monk he was. Wanted him the brother did.”

“Adolescents also tend to confuse their own feelings with their Force sense.”

Yoda gave Vygor a grateful nod.

“Confused I was not. Agree with me many knights and masters did. A missed potential it was. So sad he was when left Maati did. Pine for him for him for _years_ he did.”

“I thought you were disgusted by Master Yoda sleeping with humans,” Tahl argued.

“Sleeping with humans appeal to me does not,” Yaddle conceded. “But watching him pine with sexual tension much worse is.”

“Obi-Wan!”

The table went silent once again as Yoda called to the young knight who was walking by on his way to the food lines.

“Hello, Grandmaster Yoda.” Obi-Wan stopped and bowed, still as formal as ever, but there was warmth in his eyes that had been lacking the last time they spoke publicly.

“Sending you out soon the Council will. Find time to play Breggle we should before ship out you do.”

Several masters struggled to hold in snickers, resulting in very obvious coughing and throat clearing sounds without conversation to cover them. Master Piell blushed yet again, his long ears slowly reddening down their full length. Obi-Wan gave them a suspicious glance, disturbed by their odd behavior, before turning back to Master Yoda.

“Yes, Master, we really should.” He pulled out his comm, checking his schedule. “Tomorrow perhaps, fourteenth hour in the Games Garden?”

Yoda consulted his own comm. “Yes, work that will.” He gave Obi-Wan his usual affectionate smile. “See you then I will. Comm you I will which stones to bring.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan bowed again. “Until tomorrow then.”

“Until tomorrow,” Yoda agreed.

Obi-Wan gave the masters one more concerned look before continuing on his way. As he passed, Simet reached out and tugged on his robe.

“Come see me when you get back,” he told the young man. “We’ll have tea.”

Kenobi nodded. “Okay, I will. I’ll make the tea?”

Simet held up a shaking hand. “Exactly.”

Obi-Wan gulped nervously, hoping Yoda was correct in his assessment that Master Silvanus was not a jealous man. “I will, Master Silvanus. I expect this mission run to take a few weeks, but I can’t be certain.”

“We never are, young man. I’ll see you when you return. May the Force be with you.”

“May the Force be with you, Master.” With another bow, Obi-Wan left to get his food.

Cin rolled his eyes. “He thinks you’re going to threaten him if he breaks Yoda’s heart.”

Simet grumbled. That was _not_ his intent. “Everyone thinks that. That’s why I invited him to tea. To work out the awkwardness. It’s a courtesy to my metamours.” He glanced at Bes. “I think I could skip that step for Monti if you want him.”

Monti almost spit out his water. Cin shook his head at the geezer antics. They were worse than the teenagers sometimes. Probably because they were less busy.

“I’m still not buying it,” Gi-Ho was trying to watch Obi-Wan surreptitiously as he had since the knight had left the table. “They scheduled Breggle. It was normal. _Painfully_ normal. I still think you’re messing with us.”

“We don’t have to mess with you, Gi-Ho. You do all the work yourself,” Cin told him. Nori snickered.

Knight Kenobi finished paying for his lunch, then carried his tray into the dining area, scanning for his friends. Bes was pleased to see the joy on his face when he spied Quinlan and Kressa, then walked over to join them.

“Hey.” Kressa grinned at him as he sat down at the table. “You’re looking better. What happened?”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “I got interrogated by Master Yoda and got over myself. We talked out my difficulties and he helped me see it wasn’t the terrible failure I thought it was, and we made a plan to move forward.”

“That sounds good,” Quinlan looked at him curiously, but did not touch him. “And vague.”

“Yes, well.” Obi-Wan arranged his food. “I’m not ready to talk to everyone about it, but I’m no longer in fear of disappointing Yoda.” He shrugged, self-deprecatingly. “Apparently I was too hard on myself again.”

“ _Shocking_!” Quinlan feigned surprise before turning serious. “Please don’t do that again. I know I’m not the most sensitive friend in the galaxy, but we were very worried about you.”

“I know. And I hope you can both accept my apologies for worrying you.” He looked down at his hands. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out to Dex’s to catch up before we all ship out again. I know I’ve been kind of a hermit lately, and I hope you understand it had nothing to do with you.”

Kressa patted his arm. “Of course.” She and Quinlan shared a look. “We were going to the holo-cinema tonight and hadn’t decided on dinner yet.”

“I don’t want to intrude on your date night.” Obi-Wan looked very concerned.

“You’re not,” Quinlan shrugged. “Kani was going to come with, but she got a new mission and had to cancel. Jitters is still in the field, but maybe Bant or Reeft might want to come?”

“Unless you had your eye on someone and it could be a double date,” Kressa suggested.

Obi-Wan laughed it off, his healthy color covering any blush. “Um, no. Someday maybe, but no.”

“Hope spring eternal,” Kressa grinned. Quinlan hid his surprise.

“There are longer bets, I suppose,” Obi-Wan conceded.

“Did you want to, um, talk about what was bothering you?” Quinlan asked awkwardly. “With us?”

“No,” Obi-Wan reassured him. “Between Master Yoda and Healer Vygor, I’ve had my brain thoroughly dissected. I’ll probably talk about it someday, but right now, I’m just getting used to feeling like myself again.”

Kressa gave him a suspicious look. “You do seem much happier. This isn’t just a last hurrah before you go hurt yourself, is it?”

Obi-Wan looked horrified. “No!” He seemed genuinely distressed for hurting her. “I’m sorry I pushed you both away and avoided you. I’m sorry I frightened you. I _am_ trying to make amends and I’m trying to get back to living a healthy, balanced life, and no, I have no intention of hurting myself.”

“You wouldn’t do that to us?” Kressa asked, skeptical.

“I wouldn’t do that to Yoda. I also wouldn’t do that to you.”

Quinlan burst out laughing, quite content to be below the Grandmaster in Obi-Wan’s hierarchy. “Welcome back.”

“Thank you. So what’s playing at the holo-cinema?”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Romance. There’s supposed to be swordplay too though.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Sounds great.”

Kressa smacked Quinlan, complaining that not every feature with romantic leads was by definition a romance. Obi-Wan took the opportunity of their distraction to look over her shoulder, catching Master Yoda’s eye. They share a long look, smiles soft as their bond pulsed, before they mutually rejoined their respective conversations.

“Oh _Force_ ,” Gi-Ho groaned. “It’s true!”

Cin and Simet cracked up.

“Yes, Gi-Ho, we know.” Cin held out a hand for his due.

“How could he _do_ that?” Gi-Ho grumbled as he counted out the coins and slapped them into Cin’s hand. “He’s so . . . young and hot and Yoda’s so . . . short and green and wrinkly.”

Cin shrugged as he counted the coins, giving half to Simet. “He’s a beautiful man, but the relationship grew from their bond. I doubt he cares much what Master looks like.”

Nori and Gi-Ho stared at Cin, incredulous.

“What?” Cin asked as Simet passed the coins off to Brother Ospen, who crowed in delight.

“Nothing.” Nori tried to look non-chalant.

“We thought you were straight,” Gi-Ho opted for blunt.

“I am.” Cin reviewed what he had just said, then rolled his eyes. “I’m straight, not blind.”

“He was also more adventurous in his youth,” Si reported. Bes giggled. He wouldn’t have minded a tryst with a young Knight Drallig.

“Oh, hush Master Smartmouth.” Cin looked back at Gi-Ho. “I was raised by Master Clearing, Master Yoda and Master Si. I prefer to be intimate with women, but I’m not unaware of what constitutes male physical attractiveness.”

“He’s the Battlemaster,” Si explained. “He spends all day evaluating bodies and physiques.”

“You described him as ‘beautiful.’ This does not jive with being rigidly straight,” Gi-Ho countered.

“Was I wrong?” Cin obviously did not think he was mistaken. “And yes, I’m heterosexual, but not rigidly so.”

“So you _were_ adventurous?” Nori asked, eyes twinkling. “You’ve actually been with another man?”

Cin rolled his eyes. “Yes.” This wasn’t unusual for Jedi. “I did sleep with a few men before I figured out what was best for me, not counting when Master Yoda gave me my S-training.”

Nori gasped, then covered her mouth, bouncing in place on the bench.

Gi-Ho groaned, glancing at both Nori and Simet. “I don’t have any more cash on me right now.”

“Twenty years!” Nori squealed. “Twenty years we had that bet!”

Cin did not look impressed. “Why didn’t you just ask if I had ever had a homosexual experience?”

“Because they were betting on if it was Master Yoda who gave you your S-training,” Simet explained.

Cin glanced back and forth between the three of them while Monti and Bes began giggling like schoolgirls. Loris and Drish shared a look and joined in.

“Why did they think you _wouldn’t_ know that?” Cin asked Simet, then stared at his subordinates as if they were particularly stupid. “He’s my lineage brother.”

“They were young and naïve.” Simet patted Gi-Ho’s arm. “In light of that, I won’t charge you interest.”

“Thanks, Master Si,” Gi-Ho replied glumly.

“I will,” Nori grinned, gleeful. “I was equally young.”

Gi-Ho glanced at Obi-Wan Kenobi, cautiously. “So . . . is lizard love any good?”

Cin rolled his eyes. “I was a confused virgin, but yes, it was good. It was better than many other lovers I’ve had of both genders.”

“Same,” Simet agreed. “Master Yoda is a generous and talented lover.”

“I think it’s his kind heart.” Cin’s smile became a smirk. “And his six-inch long tongue.”

Gi-Ho looked seriously disturbed. Ospen seemed as if he were trying to figure out why that would be appealing.

“Let’s not forget his truly unique penis,” Simet joined in, just to watch Gi-Ho squirm.

“He’s very creative with his technique,” Cin concurred.

“I don’t want to hear anymore!” Gi-Ho whined.

“Does he have a single penis or hemipenes like a serpent?” Nori asked, eyes bright.

“Oh, Nori,” Simet patted her hand. “If you really want to know, you’ll just have to ride the Green Dragon yourself.”

Gi-Ho shuddered. “I don’t want to know anymore.”

“Your loss,” Cin shrugged. “I’m sure Knight Kenobi will be very happy, regardless.”

“No doubt,” Simet eyed his winnings. “So, Brother Ospen, do we need any additional funds for upcoming outings? Gi-Ho and I still have some outstanding bets.”

“I still might win,” Gi-Ho retorted.

“All things are possible with the Force,” Sister Drish replied in a very pious tone.

Gi-Ho gave her a sour look, then glared at Si. “What, is the Force just not with me?”

“In betting?” Si asked. “Never.”

“Sith dammnit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it! That’s all there is! 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Please note that I DO plan to go back and edit this beast, fix the really messed up Yoda dialogue in the earlier chapters, and hopefully get it beta read, so if you go back and reread it later and something is subtly different, you are not crazy, it’s getting polished again. 
> 
> I do have a lot of ideas for other stories in this universe (but will be taking a break for a bit). Some of the ideas include: Obi-Wan’s relationship with Eliot Dedrin, Obi-Wan’s relationship with Bail and Rouge, what Si and Bes do going forward, more about when Obi-Wan lived with Yoda at sixteen, what’s going on with Dooku, Simet when he was young(er) and why he became the Wraith, when Monti and Bes were young, and why Qui-Gon found Moosie creepy (and drove Dedrin nuts). I also have a few ideas for unrelated stories, including an Obi-Wan/Cin story, and an ABO story that explores some of the same themes as ATLL (but has different pairings). Let me know what you are interested in. I make no promises of course, I will have to go where the muse takes me, but I’m curious as to what you are interested in.
> 
> Thank you all for your support. I hope to write more, but for now I’m just celebrating actually FINISHING something! It’s not a WIP anymore! Hurray!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Any Excuse to be Close](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23887279) by [JulieBehrens (JulieCox)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieCox/pseuds/JulieBehrens)
  * [Portrait of Jedi Knight Number Fifty-Six, Species Unknown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161124) by [Cobalt_Djinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobalt_Djinn/pseuds/Cobalt_Djinn)




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